Act III
In his High Hall in the northernmost part of Kurast, Lord Arkon, Liege of Kehjistan sat somewhat uneasily among his councillors as he explained a precarious matter to them. Foremost among them was Ormus, a priest of the old Skatsim religion and a man of renowned wisdom. Next to him was Hratli, known for his mastery of metallurgy and alchemy, his tongue and wit was as sharp as his craft. Last of all was Kamrin, who was neither a scholar or mage but his personal bodyguard and military adviser. Kamrin was also a close friend of Arkon which made his advice all the more beneficial.
"You must understand that no whisper of this can get out," Arkon concluded, eyeing each of the men in turn. "Least of all to Sankekur himself, the last thing we need is another inquisition."
"Will the Que-Hegan take this sort of threat seriously if he hears of it?" Kamrin asked.
"More seriously that necessary, I am afraid," Hratli observed. "Never underestimate the mind of a madman and our dear Sankekur has clearly left his wits elsewhere."
"Nonetheless," Arkon interjected, "I want all of you to give me your word that you will never speak of this to anyone, it is too dangerous at this stage for the plan to be set in motion."
"You need not doubt my silence, my lord," Hratli replied promptly.
"And you have my word that I will speak nothing of this," Ormus added.
Arkon nodded, he knew he would get their word regardless but it was a different matter with Kamrin. Despite the fact that they were friends and Kamrin owed him service, his Captain of the Guards was also loyal to his men. Fiercely loyal.
"My lord," Kamrin began somewhat uneasily, "you need not ask for me to swear allegiance, but shall I be held responsible for saying what I cannot control?" He nodded to the magi. "While I do have strength in arms, I lack to capacity to resist what I know Sankekur and his brood are capable of. And," he added, nodding respectfully to Arkon. "I would not have it upon my honour to break my word when it is not of my own doing."
"Very well then," Arkon replied with a nod. "I have no doubt as to your loyalty, Kamrin, while it is within your capacity for you to have it."
"Thank you, my lord," Kamrin said with a slight bow.
In the distance a bell went and one of Arkon's attendants walked into the room.
"My lord, the emissaries from Aranoch are here," the attendant said.
"Very well, send them in," Arkon said with a nod, he turned back to those in the room. "Thank you for your cooperation my friends, I only hope that we do not have to put our plan into action."
"Let us all hope that," Kamrin said, bowing then leaving with the others.
"In seven nights hence, the moon will be right for our rise," said Bremm, fingering the heavy gold bracelet that indicated his status on the Zakarum High Council.
"But why do we wait?" asked Toorc, his blue robe suspiciously stained dark red in places. "Surely the Liege must have caught wind of our actions? If we wait longer—"
It was into this dialogue of dissent that Sankekur, Que-Hegan of the Zakarum entered. The seven council members got to their feet as he walked to his seat at the base of the circle. When he was seated the others followed suit, respectfully lowering their gaze.
"Why do I find myself in the company of cowards?" Sankekur asked, staring at each of them in turn. "I know not why I do not just dispense with you all. There are many among our brethren who would fill those seats you occupy. Toorc!" The man go to his feet as was summoned, staring at the floor as Sankekur examined him. "Why do you have cause to doubt my will or the will of our lord?"
"No cause, Great One," he stammered respectfully.
"Then best you be silent," the Que-Hegan snapped, dismissing the nervous cleric and signalling to one of his attendants. "Let this be a lesson to all of you, if there were any murmurings of treason within our ranks there shall be no mercy. I trust you all will have enough faith to comply with this?"
"Of course, Great One," the council members replied in unison.
"Very well then." Sankekur took a tall goblet of red liquid from the slave girl and sipped it. She had an emaciated, wasted look apart from the scratches on her cheeks. Yet she was totally obedient, sitting at his feet ready to do his bidding. She would slit her own throat if he commanded it. He nodded to Ismail, another council member. "What news of the West? Have they seen the True Way?"
"No news of that, Great One," Ismail replied meekly, "though some say that Diablo, the Lord of Terror has been slain."
Sankekur choked on his drink, red liquid seeping out of his mouth and staining his white robe. He hesitated for a moment, then hurled the goblet at Ismail. The liquid spraying all over the floor and the spun glass shattering as it missed him.
"This is a lie!" the Que-Hegan spat as his slaves went on their knees to clean up the mess. "Leave it!" He shouted, getting up from his seat and grabbing Ismail up by his beard. "Retract your insult, scum!" He ordered. "What you say cannot possibly be true."
"Great One…" Ismail started to choke under the Que-Hegan's grip, "I saw no reason to question the news…"
"You are a liar and a fool!" barked Sankekur, striking Ismail across the face and throwing him to the ground. "Get up, filth or you'll regret your first drawn breath."
Reluctantly, Ismail got to his feet, watching the Que-Hegan with a feverish glance. Sankekur paid him no more heed and went back to his seat, ignoring the sensation he had caused.
It was at this inopportune moment that there came a knock at the Council Chamber's doors.
"Who disturbs the workings of the Zakarum Council?" thundered Sankekur.
"It is I, Limrok your personal guard," came the answer. "I have brought news of the treachery with the Liege, Great One."
"Treachery?" The word was repeated among the seated council members.
"You may enter," Sankekur ordered and the door opened.
Limrok, a dark-skinned full-bodied man entered with two of his guards in tow, between them was the beaten and bloodied form of Kamrin. He was pale, somewhat dazed but conscious. The two guards threw him unceremoniously before the Que-Hegan.
"How came you word of this, Paladin Limrok?" Sankekur asked.
"I knew Kamrin was the loose link with the Liege, Great One," Limrok said, his deep voice echoing in the stone chamber. "Being with his own personal attachments to Lord Arkon."
"You speak of more than one attachment?" the Que-Hegan queried.
"I do," nodded the Paladin, "aside from having the friendship of the Liege, he is secretly engaged to Lord Arkon's daughter Antienne."
"I see." The Que-Hegan rested a reddened hand on his chin leaving a stain. He reached for his staff from one of his attendants, bringing the tip under Kamrin's chin. "And what is this treachery you speak of? I will hear it from himself."
"I will tell you nothing!" retorted Kamrin. "Taunt me all you like, you tainted demon but you'll get nothing out of me."
"Perhaps we should resort to some…alternate forms of persuasion," Sankekur mused. He looked at Limrok. "Fetch the Liege's daughter, perhaps by seeing his beloved threatened he will tell us or Lord Arkon's plans."
"No!" Kamrin moaned. "Don't you touch her! Don't you dare!"
"I'll see to it, Great One," Limrok said with a bow.
"See to it also that this man is secured," Sankekur said dismissively. "I'll not have him disturb me any longer."
When Limrok and his men left the room Sankekur stared into space, the council meeting would continue when he felt like it.
"What do you think Larena?"
Antienne walked form her dressing room wearing the silken gown she had woven herself. It was a pure white in colour, barely covering her chest and inlaid with Skatsimi fertility symbols she had embroidered.
Her lady in waiting Larena only smiled, sooner or later the word would get out that her mistress was marrying Kamrin, Lord Arkon's military adviser. While her father had been opposed to the match at first given that Kamrin lacked both a solid name and lineage, he had relented when he noticed how devoted Kamrin was to her. They would make a fine pair, Larena mused, and the people would no doubt choose Kamrin to succeed after Lord Arkon was laid to rest.
"You look well enough," Larena finally said, she knew better than to overly compliment. What a person did counted in her mind and in that regard she would give praise as freely as she felt it deserved. But if her Highness was seeking compliments in regards to her beauty, she would have to get them from someone else.
Antienne only laughed, tossing back a long strand of black hair that stuck to her face. In the process she smudged her rouge.
"There, didn't I tell you not to fuss?" Larena scolded, wiping the smear away and tidying Antienne's hair. "Settle down now, your father will be here soon."
"I am very surprised though he didn't ask a Zakarum priest to officiate," the princess said, but she sat down obediently.
"Word has it that matters are strained between the Que-Hegan and Lord Arkon," Larena reminded her. "Soon enough you'll get one of those prophets of gloom and doom telling you how to run your marriage. What side of the bed to sleep on, how many children you have…they love to interfere."
Antienne regarded the older woman seriously. "You know, Larena, it's attitudes like that which have made the Zakarum lower in regard. Some of them I found to be quite tolerant and generous in their attitudes."
"Yet for everyone that's like that there's three more spouting the fire and brimstone of the Burning Hells," Larena reminded her. "Nothing has been the same since that Sankekur took over, that's what I've heard anyway. As to how he became Que-Hegan, well…" she paused, arching an eyebrow at her charge, "I can only hope the rumours aren't true."
"They're only rumours spouted by Sankekur's detractors," replied Antienne. "Larena, if you're going to continue talking I would rather be left alone. you can tell me when father arrives to take me down."
"Fine." Larena put down the floral wreath she was about to put on Antienne's head. "I'll leave you be, if you promise to stay where you are."
"I'm not like my mother, Larena," Antienne laughed, "I love Kamrin and I'm going to marry him."
"Right you," Larena murmured, then left as she was bid.
With a sigh Antienne placed the wreath on her head and went over to the mirror on the wall. She smiled as she turned it, trying to find the best angle. Yet a rustle in the garden outside made her turn.
"What the—" Instantly a hand was clapped over her mouth and a dagger was at her throat.
"Don't make a sound," breathed a harsh voice. "Steady now, you're coming with me." Antienne tried to fight his grip but the dagger pressed closer, nicking her skin. "I meant to take you alive, but if you struggle…"
Several more secured Antienne and hoisted her out the window and out of the palace. Where she had stood was the floral wreath, evidentially as forgotten as the impending wedding.
"No sign of any flight?" Arkon asked.
"None at all, my lord," the attendant replied. "His horse is still in the stable and all at his house say that he meant to be gone only for a moment. Why his manservant even had the clothes laid out for the wedding!"
"This bodes no well," Arkon murmured. "See that my daughter is not told."
But before the attendant could respond a very distraught Larena burst into the room unannounced. She fell to her knees before Arkon, sobbing uncontrollably. Arkon gently helped her up.
"Come now, what's wrong?" he asked, helping the woman to a chair and signalling for some wine.
"It's not my fault, my lord, I swear by all that's holy!" Larena moaned.
"What are you talking about?" Arkon demanded. "Answer me clearly!"
"It's your daughter!" she burst out, tears running down her face. "I went to her chamber and she wasn't there!"
"Oh, that is nothing to fear of," Arkon said lightly. "I just heard that we cannot find Kamrin, no doubt the two lovers are somewhere laughing at us."
"It is not like that, my lord," Larena said in a choked voice, "clearly she has been taken, I saw tracks in the garden and some of the guards have seen something very odd."
"Wait one moment!" Arkon started and held his hands up. "Kamrin is missing, so is Antienne so that can mean…" He shook his head, putting it down between his hands. "The Zakarum have them, I never thought they would move so soon!"
"Please, I beg you, don't do this to me!" Antienne pleaded as her hands were bound against the wall. She looked at the beaten, shackled form of Kamrin. "Don't tell them, Kamrin. My father has faith in your loyalty. Please!"
"I may have no control if they start tormenting you!" Kamrin told her, and it was true. If they hurt her he was no longer responsible for his own actions. He loved her too much.
Between the two lovers Sankekur watched with a sly grin, Kamrin would come round in time and he could only hope it wouldn't take too much effort on the girl's part. He had plans for her later and still intended to see them through.
"You may begin," he nodded to the jailor.
The jailor, a squat man covered in sweat brought a red-hot poker from the fire and advanced towards Antienne.
"He will stop when you tell him to," Sankekur told Kamrin coolly.
Kamrin watched Antienne's face as the jailor approached her, he noticed the sweat building on her brow, the way she started to breathe rapidly and twist as the beam of iron neared her. She closed her eyes, preparing to meet the iron's burning kiss, a soft moan escaped her…
"No!" he screamed, straining the irons that held him. "Stop! Don't hurt her! I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything!"
"Then tell everything," Sankekur said.
"Lord Arkon is planning to overthrow you," Kamrin told the Que-Hegan. "He has spies among your order who are still loyal to Khalim. His supporters from Lord Jerryn Lut Gholein have just arrived and he intends to re-institute the Old Ways."
"Are any of my Council in on this?" Sankekur asked, his eyes gleaming red.
"No," Kamrin said, "Just a small number of priests and paladins."
"Is that all you have to say?" Sankekur asked.
"There is no more to tell or I would," Kamrin told him.
"Good." Sankekur turned to the jailor. "Kill him."
"No!" Antienne shrieked, struggling at the bonds that held her.
"Alert the Council," Sankekur said to an aide as he strode out of the room. "The rite must be now, there will be no more delays. Get the girl."
"Yes Great One," assented the aide.
Sankekur could only smile as he walked, at last they could reveal themselves for the power they had truly become.
"How many men do you have?" Arkon asked Lorian, Kamrin's second in command.
"Not as many as I once had, my lord," Lorian replied regretfully. "Many have deserted as their first loyalty was—"
"—to the Zakarum," Arkon finished, cursing himself for not acting earlier. "It appears that the Church of Light can no longer be trusted, we must move against it now."
"But my lord!" Lorian objected. "This move suggests—"
"Treason?" Arkon regarded the man with contempt. "Listen to me, my daughter has been stolen by those who I now consider no better than hellspawn! I am not going to be idle!"
"I am not suggesting anything of the like," Lorian said. "But by doing this the Zakarum have the right to act against us."
"They already have," Arkon thundered. "Gather your men, and anyone else you have. We march on Travincal before the hour is done."
"Why are you doing this?" Antienne asked Sankekur. He hair was tangled and matted, her gown was torn and she was covered in scratches from the mishandling of the jailor. Her hands were tied and being led to an ornate platform where Sankekur was waiting.
"Surely you Zakarum are against this murder?" Antienne continued. "I thought your order was of peace, of justice and light."
"We were blinded," Sankekur told her, "until our true way was revealed and our true master."
"Akarat?" Sankekur shook his head.
"No, that was what that blind fool Khalim believed," the Que-Hegan spat, removing his white robe so that all he wore was a loincloth. "He believed it till the end, the swine! Even as I was cutting his throat."
"So it's true," Antienne said, her eyes narrowing. "You did murder him, I didn't believe it till now. I though there was still good in you."
"Your words mean nothing," Sankekur spat. He nodded to the Council members gathered around them. "Prepare her."
The remnants Antienne's dress were torn off her as she was bound to the altar opposite Sankekur. She fought them, clawing their touches and trying to break free.
"You won't have me as you have had Kamrin!" she declared.
"Quite right," Sankekur said, "your fate shall be very, very different."
From a niche in the altar he took a bright blue pointed stone. It seemed to move in his hands, throbbing and humming of its own accord as Sankekur held it aloft.
"Begin the rite!" he ordered, Ismail took out a knife and slit Antienne's wrists until the blood flowed freely. As she screamed Toorc gagged her then they took their places among the other Council Members, slowly chanting the incantations.
"I have prepared for you the way which you may enter!" pronounced Sankekur, holding the stone between himself and the struggling Antienne. "May you be pleased with the sacrifice, this worthy offering to our true master, the Lord of Hatred…Mephisto!"
Again, Sankekur's eyes glowed and eerie red and the stone began to emit blue light. The light started to fill the room, even blocking out the glow of the torches and cauldrons surrounding them.
From afar, Arkon watched the rite, he had managed to fight his way through the temple thus far, but when he saw his daughter bound as if for a sacrifice he stopped short. How could he kill Sankekur without harming her?
"Get your archers," he whispered to Lorian. "Have them trained on the Que-Hegan."
"But they won't dare, my lord," Lorian replied. "It's sacrilege to draw a weapon on sacred ground."
"Are you going to obey me?" Arkon threatened.
Lorian didn't argue, he issued the order despite his misgivings.
At his command Ismail and Toorc bound Sankekur to the altar as Maffer held the stone aloft. By this time Antienne had almost collapsed from the loss of blood, she slumped wearily.
"He honours us!" boomed Sankekur. "He will take a form among the mortal plane!"
Maffer stared at the stone as he lowered it from its upheld position, he then angled the pointed end towards the Que-Hegan's bared chest.
"This is the form he wishes to take," whispered Sankekur. "This is the vessel in which he wishes to abide."
At this Maffer dove the stone into Sankekur's chest. Sankekur gave out a single, shrill cry before collapsing as Antienne had done. Blood flowed out of his mouth as his twisted in agony.
"We have a clear shot at him," Lorian told Arkon.
"Wait!" Two of the council members were still dangerously close to Antienne, he didn't want to make any movement that could jeopardise her. Even with Sankekur dead.
But was he? That stab in the chest would have killed anyone, yet the blue glow from the stone began to fill his body which still continued to move. Was it his imagination or was Sankekur's skin reddening? Was his face changing? And why was he continually moaning like a creature from the Burning Hells?
Finally, Sankekur stopped moving and Arkon was relieved. This meant he could act, despite what rite they called it dead was dead in his mind. The council gathered around him, the blue robes forming a circle among the fallen Que-Hegan. Unbinding him, helping him to his feet.
"Take your men," Arkon whispered, "leave this cursed place."
"What?" Lorian looked at the Liege in askance.
"You heard me." Arkon drew his sword. "I don't know what this is, but it's not going to stop here. It's going to spread until it's all through the city. Get everyone out."
"Yes, my lord," Lorian replied, calling to his men and walking upstairs.
Arkon quietly approached the altar through the shadows, hoping he could be in time.
Antienne opened her eyes, stunned to see the council members gathered around Sankekur. Had something gone wrong? Did this mean he was dead?
"Away with you!" said a rasping voice that made Antienne shiver.
When the council members dispersed Antienne let out an involuntary scream at what was before her. Instead of Sankekur, the crazed Que-Hegan of the Zakarum was…something out of a nightmare.
It was a demon, Antienne knew that much but it was almost impossible to describe as it stood—no, floated—in front of her. It had no legs, nothing but the tattered remains of the loincloth that Sankekur had worn. Instead of arms there were four long, bony tentacles like that of a swamp beast. And worse of all was the face which Antienne could hardly bring herself to look at. Halfway between a demon and a skull and crowned with two horns, its red eyes gleamed viciously at her.
"We honour you, Mephisto, Lord of Hatred," Ismail said, coming before the demon and falling to his knees.
"Your actions shall be rewarded," Mephisto said, snaking a tentacle towards the council member. "Embrace your new forms."
Ismail stared at his hands as they started to atrophy and disfigure, spined grew along the back of one of his arms and he could feel his skin harden along his back. At the crown of his head he could feel the single horn. But instead of reacting in shock he smiled, Sankekur had promised them power by serving Mephisto and now power he had.
Power they all had, all of the council members had changed as he was. Staring at each other, remarking at their new disfigurements.
"But the girl, my lord?" Ismail croaked, surprised to hear his changed voice.
"She is mine," Mephisto said, lashing out a tentacle and grabbing Antienne.
"No you don't!" Antienne screamed as she was held high in the air.
"Unhand her!"
The gathering looked to see who had come, it was Arkon with his drawn sword.
"You shall not have her," he said, walking towards the demon.
"You're wrong," Mephisto said, "I shall have her, and you. I shall have you all."
And snaking out another tentacle, he grabbed Arkon.
