Chương 173: Chapter 171 – He Who Draws Salt from the Earth

Several of the temple adherents produced clawed prybars that they used to pull the iron nails from their fittings on the doors. Cole watched them, giving Moriarty a side-long look.

"Isn't this guy in charge? Why is he locked in like a prisoner?" asked Cole.

"He could leave if he wanted, but he's not a person like you or me. He doesn't work the same, doesn't think the same, doesn't perceive the world the same."

"Is that what makes him a god?" Moriarty paused and considered his words.

"No. He's a god because he has the power over the Lewis Field in a more tangible way. We work inside the boundaries of the field. He manipulates those boundaries. Each Starlit tribe has a bound god. It's how they've stayed alive and defended themselves." The priests finished unsecuring the doors and hauled back on the iron handles. The wooden slabs groaned and slid outward, along with a rush of hot, humid air in stark contrast to the chill of the rest of the temple.

Cole flinched at the sudden change and then followed Ashfeather inside. As soon as they were past the threshold, the doors swung shut again, leaving them in darkness until a constellation of flickering lights dispersed throughout the room. Beneath them, a massive, black-feathered avian creature sat cross-legged in a shallow pool of glowing blue water with its four large wings spread behind it. It had a wicked, hooked beak and a mane of feathers with an oily sheen that ruffled in the draft.

If it stood up, it would have been at least four meters tall, twice as large as any of the other Starlit. Arrayed around the pool, dozens of circular nests spread throughout the chamber. In each, a pale-feathered Starlit with milky, blind eyes stared sightlessly out. But their faces weren't as bird-like as the others Cole had seen. They still had deformed noses, lips, and stunted, patchy feathers. Their arms were long and slender, but not quite wings.

In fact, despite the deformities, they were almost as human as the bound god was bird-like. Some of them cradled eggs or Starlit hatchlings who cried at the sudden light. Cole didn't need Moriarty to spell this one out for him. The Starlit had been human, once. Before the god started to literally remake the tribe in his own images—one generation of controlled breeding at a time. He was looking at a god's personal eugenics harem. Moriarty picked up on his discomfort.

"Easy, Airborne. I know it's bleak. Watch what you say." Ashfeather entered the pool of glowing blue water and knelt down again.

"My lord, I've brought the warriors from heaven, as you have bid." He Who Draws Salt from the Earth made no indication that he'd heard the priest. His head hung, resting against a chest of black, downy feathers, eyes closed. After a moment, Ashfeather spoke again.

"Thank you, my lord. I shall." The priest rose, bowing to Cole and Moriarty again as he passed.

"My lord wishes to speak with you directly. Such divine words would overwhelm my ears. I will return for you." As soon as the priest exited the chamber, the doors swung shut and Cole heard the rhythmic tap-tap of nails being driven back into the wood. Apparently they didn't mess around with security when it came to the bound god. The god itself finally lifted its head, opening glowing yellow eyes. It twisted its head to the left and right, staring at them with its predatory gaze.

Cole suddenly felt like he understood how a field mouse felt when looking up at a hawk. This thing was intense. Just being in its sights felt a bit like the strength-sapping effect of a blood curse. Apparently he wasn't the only one who felt that way, as several of the female Starlit in the room started moaning or wailing in fear. Cole suppressed a wave of revulsion and resisted the urge to lift his muzzle. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version."

I see the hatred for me burning in your soul, little sparrow," whispered the creature. Even the soft voice reverberated in the chamber and pressed down on Cole's shoulders. It forced both Cole and Moriarty to a knee and Cole gasped in pain." Brazen to come before me and desire violence before honor. Such spark is long absent from these halls. Shall I show you the difference between us? Listen, now. You need not speak. I know your hearts. If they yet beat when I have finished, you shall have my favor."

Cole put a hand to his chest. He could barely breathe. Chains had bound themselves around his ribs, and every word of the bound god tightened them just a little bit more.

"Heed my words. This ember is not unwelcome. Would that my Starlit remembered such a spark to fight for more beyond mere survival. They would need not champions foreign to the isles, for they would be conquerers. Show them what they lack." Moriarty doubled over next to Cole and vomited on the edge of the reflecting pool." I know why you are here. Why you are truly, here."

Searing pain flashed through Cole's mind, along with a series of images—other worlds he'd visited, the children he'd saved, and the legions of enemies he'd cut through to get to them." Monica Phillips is at the temple of He Who Calls the North Winds. I have bound her by the laws of this world. She is wed to a god. You cannot remove her while the North Wind sleeps. If she leaves this world, she will die."

The images of Vael and Babel wiped away, replaced with the façade of a massive cliffside structure the size of a skyscraper being pummeled in a storm, surrounded by a flight of dragons. The view swept backwards, zipping away from the floating mountain, crossing miles and miles and several other islands before reaching the temple and Cole found himself sprawled on the tiles, gasping for breath." Go. See her geas fulfilled and you may do with her as you will.

Join my warriors and wash the mountains in the blood of the Thunderwinged." He Who Draws Salt from the Earth closed his eyes once again. The pressure vanished and Cole gasped in a deep, full breath. Moriarty groaned on the floor next to him. Cole pushed to his feet and then hauled Moriarty upright, dragging him back to the doors. Cole pounded on the inside until he heard the blockade being dismantled again. When the guards hauled them open, Cole stumbled through.

Ashfeather and the other priests waited to receive them, helping them to the side of the antechamber where they collapsed onto a sedan chair. Adherents brought them a basin of water, and Cole splashed his face with shaking hands.

"You have heard His voice," said Ashfeather.

"Take the time you need to recover." The priests left them alone.

"Fucking hell," said Cole.

"Did you know that was going to happen?" Moriarty shook his head.

"If I had, I never would'a went in there. Fuck my life." Cole looked to make sure none of the priests or guards were within ear shot before muttering under his breath.

"What about…? He said she couldn't leave. That she'd die."

"He's gotta be full of shit, right?" asked Moriarty.

"As soon as we get her out of the Lewis Field, whatever curse he put on her should stop working."

"Is that something we want to chance?" asked Cole.

"That thing could see inside my head. And it didn't give a shit that we were taking advantage of the Starlit." Moriarty grit his teeth and pushed to his feet.

"I need to update Bricker. I'll have Ashfeather send me back. Meantime, your OPORD doesn't change. You've got to find Phillips before you can make an assessment. And you'll need the Starlit for that. Don't mention any of that shit the big guy knew. If he wanted his priests to know, he'd have told them. I don't think he holds his worshipers in high regard." Moriarty glanced at the doors.

"Honestly, I think they deserve each other." He called for Ashfeather and the priest approached. Cole couldn't help agreeing. The Starlit had traded their women to a monster for security. Now they were petitioning offworld aid by summoning 'heavenly warriors'. These faustian bargains would come back to bite them—sooner, rather than later. Hell, if it were possible, Cole would have considered negotiating with the lizards, instead. They were clearly intelligent, and at least as advanced as the Starlit.

But they hadn't seemed interested in talking and he wasn't terribly concerned with creating an opportunity for a dialogue. That was Moriarty's schtick, and he'd thrown DOR's weight behind the Starlit. Cole pushed to his feet, as well. His legs were still unsteady. He wondered if he'd have been able to survive that conversation without enhancement levels bolstering his body and mind. But he pushed that thought away as quickly as it came. Not even worth thinking about.