“Surely, it is early yet, my lord,” Mina protested. “The numbers of our Beloved grow, but there are not near enough and they are mostly in the west of Ansalon, not the east.”
Chemosh shook his head. “We cannot wait. Sargonnas gains in strength daily and the other gods are either blind to his ambition or too preoccupied with their own concerns to see the danger. If he wins the east, do they truly believe he will be content with that? After centuries of being trapped on their isles, the minotaur have finally gained a foothold upon the main continent. He seeks to rule not only the east, but all the world and heaven into the bargain.”
Chemosh clenched his fist. “I am the only one who is in a position to challenge him. I must act now before he grows stronger still. Where is that fool, Krell?” He glanced about, as though the death knight might be hiding under a rock. “Committing mayhem somewhere, I suppose, my lord,” said Mina. “I have not kept track of him.”
“Nor have I. I will summon him to meet us in the Abyss. You must leave this plane for a time, Mina. Leave your work that is so dear to you.”
He cast a scathing glance at the rumpled blanket, the imprint of two intertwined bodies still fresh upon it.
“You are dear to me, my lord,” said Mina softly. “My work is just that—my work.”
Chemosh saw his reflection in her amber eyes. He saw no other. He took hold of her hands and pressed them to his lips. “Forgive me. I am not myself.”
“Perhaps that is the problem, my lord,” said Mina.
He paused, thinking this over. “Maybe you are right. I am not even sure what ‘myself’ is these days. It was easier when Takhisis and Paladine held sway in heaven. We knew our places then. We may not have liked it. We may have railed against them and chafed beneath the yoke, but there was order and stability in heaven and in the world. There is something to be said for peace and security, after all. I could sleep with both eyes closed instead of keeping one always open, always on the lookout for someone sneaking up behind me.”
“So you lose a few eons of sleep, Lord,” said Mina. “It will all be worth it, when you are the ruler and the others bow to you.”
“How did you gain such wisdom?” Chemosh took her in his arms, held her close, and pressed his lips against her neck. “I have made a decision. No longer will rough mortals fawn over you. No more clumsy mortal lips will bruise your flesh. You are loved of a god. Your body, your soul, are mine, Mina.”
“They have always been, my lord,” she said, shivering in his embrace.
Darkness closed over Chemosh, enfolded him and surrounded her, carried them both to a deeper, thicker, warmer darkness, lit with the single candle flame of ecstasy.
“And will always be.”
Chemosh returned to the Abyss to find it dark and dreary. He had no one but himself to blame. He could have lit the Abyss bright as heaven, filled it with chandeliers and candelabra, glowing lamps, and glimmering lanterns. He could have peopled it, furnished it, added song and dance. In eons past he had done so. Not now. He loathed his dwelling place too much to try to change it. He wanted, needed, to be among the living. And now was the time to start to put his plan to gain his heart’s desire into action.
He waited impatiently for Krell and was pleased to hear at last the clank and rattle of the death knight, clumping his way through the Abyss, making heavy going of it, as though he were slogging through the thick mud of a battle field. His eyes were two pinpoints of red. Small and set close together, they reminded Chemosh of the eyes of a demonic pig.
Longing for something better to look upon, Chemosh shifted his gaze to Mina. She was dressed in black, a silken gown that flowed over the curves of her body like the touch of his hands. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. He could see the faint quiver of the pulse of life beating in the hollow of her throat. He suddenly wished Krell a thousand miles away, but he could not indulge himself, not yet.
“So, Krell, here you are at last,” said Chemosh briskly. “Sorry to call you away from slaughtering gully dwarves or whatever it was you found to amuse yourself, but I have a task for you.”
“I was not slaughtering gully dwarves,” returned Krell sullenly. “There’s no pleasure in that, no fight in the little beasts. They simply squeal like rabbits and then fall down and piss themselves.”
“It was a jest, Krell. Were you always this stupid or did death have a bad effect on you?”
“I was never one for jests, my lord,” said Krell, adding stiffly.
“And you should know where I was. It was you who sent me. I was following your orders, bringing new recruits to you.”
“Indeed?” Chemosh put the tips of his fingers together, tapped them gently. “And is that going well?”
“Very well, my lord.” Krell rocked back on his heels, pleased with himself. “I think you will find my recruits far more satisfactory than others.”
He cast a glance at Mina. She had rescued him, freed him from the tormenting goddess and his rock-bound prison, but he hated her, for all that.
“At least my recruits are trustworthy,” Mina returned. “They aren’t likely to betray their master.”
Krell clenched his fists and took a step toward her.
Mina rose from her chair to face him. Her skin was pale, her eyes glinting gold. She was fearless, beautiful in her courage, radiant in her anger. Chemosh allowed himself a moment’s pleasure, then wrenched himself back to business.
“Mina, I think you should leave us.”
Mina cast a distrustful glance at Krell. “My lord, I do not like—”
“Mina,” Chemosh said. “I gave you an order. I told you to leave.”
Mina seemed inclined to argue. One glance at the god’s dark and glowering face, however, and she subsided. She gathered up her long skirts and departed.
“You need to keep her in line,” Krell advised. “She’s getting a bit above herself. As bad as a wife. You should just kill her. She’d be less trouble dead than alive.”
Chemosh rounded on the knight. The light in the eyes of the god was fell, a light darker than the darkness. What little there was left of the death knight shriveled up inside his armor.
“Do not forget that you are mine now, Krell,” said Chemosh softly, “and that, with a flick of my finger, I can reduce you to a pile of bird droppings.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Krell, subdued. “Sorry, my lord.”
Chemosh summoned a chair, summoned another chair, summoned a table, and placed it between the two of them.
“Sit down, Krell,” he said testily. “I understand that you are fond of the game of khas.”
“Maybe I am, my lord,” said Krell warily, suspecting a trap.
He glared hard at the chair, which had materialized out of the darkness of the Abyss. When he thought Chemosh wasn’t looking, Krell gave the chair a surreptitious poke with his finger.
“Sit, Krell,” Chemosh repeated coldly. “I like eyes—even pig’s eyes—on a level with mine.”
The death knight lowered his armor-encased nothingness ponderously into the chair.
Chemosh waved his hand, and a single point of light shone down upon a khas board.
“What do you think of these pieces, Krell?” Chemosh asked casually. “I had them specially made. They’re carved out of bone.”
Krell was about to say he didn’t give a damn if they were carved out of horse manure, but then he caught Chemosh’s eye. With a gloved forefinger and thumb, Krell picked up one of the pawns, carved to resemble a goblin, and made a show of admiring it.
“Nice workmanship, my lord. Is it elven?”
“No,” said Chemosh. “Goblin. These pieces are elven.” He gestured to the two elf clerics.
“I didn’t know goblins could carve as well as this,” Krell remarked, pinching the goblin by the neck as he peered at it intently.