Endless Pantheon Suggested Read order for Endless Pantheon
Book 1: God's Eye is concurrent with...
Book 1: God's Eye is concurrent with...
[Dresden Files / Sg-1] Endless Pantheon: God's Eye
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Endless Pantheon Suggested Read order for Endless Pantheon
Book 1: God's Eye is concurrent with Book 1.5: Shattering Occam's Razor
Book 2: God's Blood is concurrent with Book 2.5: Manifest Disaster
The Murphy's Law short story falls between books 2 and 3.
Book 3: God's Heart
The Short Story Threads are supplemental to the main stories.
Visions of the Pantheon is from the POV of Goa'uld or Tok'ra. Letters From Home is from human or near human POVs.
The Short Story Threads are supplemental to the main stories.
Visions of the Pantheon is from the POV of Goa'uld or Tok'ra. Letters From Home is from human or near human POVs.
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Scraped from here.
Harry Dresden gets misplaced after the events of the Darkhallow. Suffice it to say tossed to the edge of the galaxy, he still manages to stir up trouble. After all, the universe exists to trouble Harry Dresden.
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A / N : This story starts at the end of Dead Beat, and progresses from that point onwards. I own neither Stargate Sg1 nor the Dresden Files.
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Cowl kept on chanting, and I saw his body arch with tension. Over the next minute or so, he actually, physically rose above the ground, until his boots were three or four inches in the air.
His voice had become part of the wild storm, part of the dark energy, and it rolled and boomed and echoed all around us. I began to understand the kind of power we were dealing with. It was power as deep as an ocean, and as broad as the sky.
It was dark and lethal and horrible and beautiful, and Cowl was about to take it all in. The strength it would give him would not make him a match for the entire White Council. It would put him in a league so far beyond them that their strength would mean virtually nothing.
It was power enough to change the world. To reshape it after one's own liking.
The tip of the vortex spun down, danced lightly upon Cowl's lips, and then slipped gently between them. Cowl howled out the last repetition of his chant, his mouth opening wide. I ground my teeth.
Bob hadn't been able to help me, and I couldn't let Cowl complete the spell. Even if it killed me. I drew in my magic for the last spell I would ever throw, a blast to slam into Cowl, disrupt the spell, let that vast energy tear him to bits. Kumori sensed it and I heard her let out a short cry. The knife burned hot on my throat.
And then the dinosaur I'd summoned plunged through the clouds of wild spirits and headed directly for Kumori, her eyes blazing with brilliant orange flames. Tyrannosaur Bob let out a bellow and swiped one enormous talon at Kumori. Cowl's apprentice was tough and competent, but no amount of training or forethought can prepare you for the sight of an angry dinosaur coming to eat your ass.
She froze for the briefest second, and I turned, shoving away from her. The knife whipped against my throat, I felt a hot sting. I wondered if that was what Grevane had felt.
There was no more time. I flung myself across the grass, gripped my staff in both hands, and swung it like a baseball bat at Cowl's head.
The blow connected, right on what felt like the tip of his upturned jaw, snapping his mouth shut and knocking him to the ground. The vortex abruptly screamed and filled with a furious red light. I choked out a cry and fell down on my right side to the ground, bringing up my shield bracelet and holding it over me in an effort to protect myself from the vast forces now flying free from the botched spell.
There was more sound, so loud that no word could accurately describe it, incandescent lightning, screaming faces, and forms of spirits and ghosts, and trembling earth beneath me.
And blackness fell.
When I came to my senses there was no vortex of dark magic, no lightning, no storm, no rain. No signs that there had been a battle between necromancers at all. There was also no field and no signs that I was anywhere remotely in Chicago.
I lay there for a moment, the aching throb of my ribs competing with the swirling pains in my head. I slowly gathered my wits, assessing my surroundings. The dark quiet sounds of night echoed around me, tiny chirps and soft cries of night-time creatures murmuring passively in the shadowy forrest around me.
Something furry and rodent like sniffed my face inquisitively before scuttling away in fear, monkeyish in its gait. I looked down and saw that I had fallen around Bob the skull and curled my body around him as I had shielded myself.
Orange flame flickered to life in the eye sockets. "Some show, huh?" Bob said. He sounded exhausted.
"You had to go get the dinosaur, eh?" I said. "I figured you'd just grab a handy zombie."
"Why settle for wieners when you can have steak?" the skull said brightly. "Pretty good idea, Harry, talking to me once Cowl sat me on the ground. I didn't want to work for him anyway, but as long as he had the skull…well. You know how it is."
I grunted. "Yeah. What happened?"
"The spell backlashed when you slugged Cowl," Bob said. "Did a bit of property damage."
I coughed out a little laugh, looking around me. "Yeah. Cowl?"
"Most likely there are little pieces of him still filtering down," Bob said brightly. "And his little dog, too."
"You see them die?" I asked.
"Well. No. Once that backlash came down, it tore apart every enchantment within a hundred miles. Your dinosaur sort of fell apart." He blinked in surprise as he realized where we were.
"Oh," Bob said, "Uh... Harry we aren't where we're supposed to be."
I grunted, "I noticed Bob."
"That's not supposed to happen boss," The flickering flames in the skull's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "I mean, sure it should have killed you or well made you into a god but not just moved you..."
"Don't sound so disappointed," I shook my head frustratedly, "It figures, I never follow any of the rules with any other thing in my life. Why should this happen logically?"
Bob snorted impressively for someone without lungs, "It doesn't work like that, the laws of physics have to operate in a certain way. Murphy's law doesn't apply to magic."
I lifted myself to my feet gingerly, stretching my legs and trying to massage the stiffness out of my body, "Well apparently there are a couple of laws of physics we didn't take into account because this isn't Kansas Dorthy."
Bob didn't really have much to say to that.
I lifted the silver pentacle my mother gave me, a representation of the five elements bound by a circle of control, and put a small effort of will into it. The forrest came into view bathed in the dull bluish white luminescence of my magic. The interweaved branches of the tightly packed trees spread dark and spidery patterns of light in the distance, only hinting at the path beyond.
"Any guesses at where we are Bob?"
"Not a clue boss," Bob's voice became pensive, "Could you give me a better look at those trees?"
"Uh, yeah sure," I lifted the skull and put its face nearly up to the bark.
"Oh no," Bob coughed, "Er... Boss... these trees are tropical. As in not in America."
"Ok," I sighed, "So where are we then?"
"Laos, Cambodia, Brazil, Australia, how should I know? Trees aren't really my thing," Bob said scathingly,
"Just open a portal to the Nevernever so we can go back home."
I gave Bob an inquisitive look. Opening a way wasn't the same as just opening a door. Opening an unmapped way into the Nevernever could easily drop me in the middle of some big nasty faeries or the center of a cloud of poison. As a creature of the Nevernever Bob knew this better than I did. "You sure about that Bob?"
"There are a lot of nasty creatures in the rainforest Sahib, without knowing what you're doing it's probably less dangerous for you to deal with the Fairies. Between poisonous snakes, crocodiles, piranhas and armed rebels you're probably better off there."
I didn't really have a counter argument to that. I waved my staff across the air in front of me and whispered,
"Aparturum." A shimmering hole of air appeared in front of me, a small portal into the world between ours and what lay beyond. I tucked Bob's skull back into the makeshift pouch tied to my waist and walked through.
The thin skin of magic between spaces felt different than it usually did, some how more greasy than the sensation I usually associated with crossing over. A tingling sensation of menace, I was not somewhere nice.
The light of my pendant shone out into the pitch black space of the Nevernever, illuminating jagged spikes and spires of stone. I winced as I turned and one of the razor sharp spines cut the back of my hand, spreading a narrow spray of blood.
It dripped down my fingers and to the ground before I had even realized my hand was cut, sticky wet redness dropping the the ground. Nothing good ever comes from blood in the Nevernever.
"Uh oh... I take back what I said about the snakes," Bob said, the single eye light peeking out of the makeshift skull carrier I'd made from an old T-shirt tentatively, "Uh Harry... we should leave..."
"Where are we Bob?"
"Don't worry about that Harry. Just go, now." Bob was worried. Bob was never worried. Annoyed, angry, frustrated but never afraid. As a spirit of intellect he generally felt such mortal concerns were beneath his interests.
"Where Bob!" I hissed under my breath, wrapping my hand in a strip of my shirt.
"The Outside. We're on the border of the Outside."
"Oh, god no."
The Nevernever was the space between our world, the real world, and what lay beyond. Demons and Faeries came from the Nevernever and while they weren't nice by anyone's standards they obeyed certain physical laws, followed certain metaphysical constants. The Outside was different, outsiders weren't bound by the sorts of magics and physics the rest of us had to deal with, the servants of the Old Gods they had unimaginable powers of nightmare and corruption.
Though shalt not open the outer gates was a law of magic so profound the White Council would consign someone to death for committing, a crime on par with murder or necromancy. Anything that chose to live on the edge of Nevernever wasn't something I wanted to meet. The creatures of the outside were so evil that even speaking of them risked death. Demons and faeries were callous and evil, outsiders were something else entirely. Unnatural and wrong.
Not something I wanted to tangle with at the best of times, especially not when every fibre of my being was screaming to just lie down for a week and sleep. I was barely standing on my own two feet, in no shape to be battling the creatures who chose to sleep in the shadow of the outer realms.
It was time to leave.
I turned to re-enter my portal and discovered, much to my horror, that it was no longer there, "Bob what happened?"
"It's the border to the outside Harry, ways to the real world don't last long here. You're going to have to open another one." Bob whined, "And you'd better do it quick."
I waved my staff and chanted the spell to open a door. Nothing happened, "Bob it's not working."
"That's not good." Bob looked out into the distance with his glowing eye in the direction of a distorted howl echoing out in the darkness where some nightmare creature smelled blood, "Because it sounds like the natives are restless."
I ran.
There's no shame in avoiding something you can't handle taking on directly, not when your life is on the line. It may not have been the most manly thing for me to do but I stand by my decision. I fled, stumbling in the near blinding darkness scrambling over the razor sharp outcroppings of rock. They cut into my shoes and my duster, the magically enhanced leather of my coat weathering the treatment far better than the rubber of my Nikes.
Engineered for the most perfect running experience my ass. They have yet to make a pair of shoes that can survive more that a couple weeks of my lifestyle before reverting to a sneaker like mass of torn fabric and laces barely fit to cover a foot.
I caught a glimpse of something lithe and cloying launched itself at me from above, howling bloody murder as it leapt towards me with outstretched claws. The burned flesh of my arm puckered as I raised my own mangled paw skywards, spreading my fingers and shoving a barrier of force between myself and the screaming thing. With a fleshy crack the creature bounced off my shield and into the razor sharp spines of stone, slicing its chest into a mess of gore and forcing me to my knees with a starling impact.
I rolled to the left as Bob screamed, "Behind you boss!"
A second fanged mess of matted fur wriggled past me, serpentine and slithering. Six glowing red pits shone in the darkness, undulating in a way eyes had no right to move. It sprung forwards, jaw dislocating wide enough to swallow me whole. I shoved forward with my staff, channeling momentum in the opposite direction of the creature. The wood collided with the inside of the creature's jaw like a cannon shot, the exploding viscera of the creatures head punctuated by my scream of, "Forzare."
Creatures jabbered, chittered and howled in the distance, promising further violence to come. My staff, still covered in the thick ichor of the creature's blood, crackled with the unsightly power of the outer realms. Playing a hunch I splashed my staff down into the pooling blood beneath the creature and yelled "Apartum," all too aware that the screaming voices were less and less distant with every second.
A narrow tear in the fabric of the Nevernever punched through the air, ephemeral and feeble by powered by the unnatural energies of the creature's blood. I dived through it and into a wide desert, stopping abruptly as a clawed hand shot out through the portal to the Nevernever and grabbed me by the ankle, talons sinking into the soft meat of my leg.
I screamed in pain and smashed my staff across the oblong face that jutted out of my way to the Nevernever, bursting a bulbous mass that might have been an eye. With a blunt screech of annoyance and a snuffling whoop the creature dragged me towards its fanged proboscis.
I reached out with my hand and punched forward, releasing the small reserve of energy left in them. The creature's hand buckled and twisted, breaking from it's arm at the wrist, severing tendons and ichor from the chitinous bundles of flesh. The creature's snarl of fury turned to a yelp of fear as the force of my attack disrupted the delicate magical energies of the doorway to the Nevernever, breaking the connection and collapsing the gateway with an immediate sucking gust.
Its distorted face fell to the dune, dissolving into ectoplasm. The viscous fluid quickly evaporated in the heat of the desert sand. That was one of the good things about creatures from the Nevernever, they tended not to leave a mess.
I sat on the dune massaging my leg waiting for the pain to subside, surveying my surroundings. I'd gone from Tarzan to a scene out of Lawrence of Arabia. The desert was surprisingly hospitable by comparison to the part of the Nevernever it opened up on. White tufts of sand billowed with the gentle breeze, sending shimmering patterns along the haze of heat on the horizon.
My coat, enchanted to never be too hot or too cold, was blissfully cool in the baking sun. Sometimes it's really cool to be a wizard, what can I say.
Falling back on my survival skills I pulled the pocket compass I keep in my duster pocket out and held it in the palm of my hand, watching the red and white needles as they spun backwards and forwards. The little red arrow finally came to a halt, shivering unhelpfully in the direction of my shadow. I tapped the compass to be sure but be damned, that little red arrow kept pointing to my shadow.
There was something in these dunes messing with the magnetic fields of the area I supposed, there are places like that in the Rocky Mountains. They screw with all sorts of things like cell phones and GPS's, or so I hear. I've never really gotten the chance to use a cell phone or a GPS. Anything more complex than a toaster oven has a bad habit of going wonky around a Wizard, even my old rotary telephone has to be repaired ever year or so due to the buildup of magical feedback.
Lucky for me I wasn't looking for north.
For all intents and purposes I was stranded in the desert till I could nurse my wounds and find a safe way into the Nevernever. I sure as hell wasn't going to risk opening up another way so close to the outside. Hell's bells, I might open up a door inside of it.
Staying in the desert meant finding water, and finding it fast. Even with my climate controlled coat, I would sweat out a dangerous amount of water in this heat. Magic can't make something from nothing and even a Wizard was only human. I would get dehydrated.
I hawked a lugie onto the back of the compass and whispered, "Agua dondé." Admittedly not the most impressive somatic component to a spell but I'd not been particularly poetic in my high school days. Casting is mostly about intent, if you believe that a certain set of words will invoke a certain power then it will. The more you believe it and the more you practice it the more it becomes part of your magic.
My spanish may have been downright awful, but my spell worked like a charm. The little red arrow spun in the opposite direction, eagerly pointing me to the nearest source of drinkable water. Humming the theme to Aladdin I trudged out across the desert.
Walking in sand isn't fun. Not the sort of packed and prepared sand you have on most beaches, that stuff is pretty much groomed to make it as nice for tourists as it can be, the real stuff. Sand dunes are more difficult to walk through than some of the worst backwoods trails. The deceptively smooth skin of the dunes conceals its shifting and treacherous nature.
The ground is uneven and unsteady, putting your foot in the wrong spot can just as easily agitate something venomous underground as cause an avalanche and bury you alive. There's a reason desert nomads tend to be no-nonsense types, when walking ten feet over open ground can kill you it tends to weed out optimism.
I hobbled forwards through the dunes, testing my path with my staff to make sure that no snakes or scorpions were in my way. I didn't think I was in America, I've been in the American Southwest enough to be able to recognize that sort of rocky, flat desert terrain. And I'd have remembered the blue and green striped lizards if I'd seen them.
They looked a bit like an iguana, but the nose was wrong. It was scrunched and angled upwards like some sort of deep sea fish. They lay in the dunes with their mouth's open in imitation of a flowering shrub. They waited for flies and small birds to try to harvest nectar before snapping shut, swallowing their prey whole.
Either venomous or unaccustomed to predators they observed me with disinterested casual aplomb, mildly aware of my existence. They weren't going to allow something so obviously unimportant to interrupt their meal. The regal disdain in their upturned noses reminded me of my own cat, Mister.
I'd been adopted by the Tomcat after I found him on the streets. We'd come to the arrangement that in exchange for caring for all of his needs and desires I would be allowed to continue cohabiting with his august personage. With time I'd come to realize that I'd been accepted into his apartment and was a member of his family. He'd been a fixture in my daily life for years, a 30lb ball of fluff and muscle eager for a scratch behind the ears and whatever food was available.
I could trust Thomas to feed him while I was gone. Thomas would make sure Mister and Mouse, my dog, were cared for in my absence. After all, what was family for? He may have been an Vampire of the White Court, an Incubus, but Thomas was my brother. I trusted him.
We'd both grown up lonely, he and I. Both of us desperately wanting a family, a real family. The sort that loves you and is there for holidays and the like. Our mother died giving birth to me. My father died when I was young and my foster parent, Justin DuMorne, was the closest thing to Darth Vader you'll find this side of Tatooine. I killed him with magic to save my own life when he tried to enslave my mind. Thomas' father and his twisted excuse for a family still lived, but when I compare my childhood and his I'm not sure who had it worse.
And more than likely he currently believed I was dead. I had to get home, had to let him know that I was alive and well. Thomas was a good man but if he didn't have my support any more he might well fall to his darker urges. For a vampire of the White Court that could easily get someone killed.
Too preoccupied with my own worries about Thomas' safety to worry about my own I stumbled over my own feet, rolling down a large dune uncomfortably clutching my body in a protective ball around Bob's skull. If it shattered and exposed Bob to sunlight it would burn the magic that made up his body to cinders, killing him. It was worth a few extra bruises to avoid that.
I landed at the base of the dune upside down in a substantially less than graceful pose. My staff thumped down into my kneecap, bouncing off it and onto the ground next to me. I swore angrily, cursing the dune, the staff, my knee, and the disciples of Kemmler for sending me to this godforsaken scrap of nowhere.
The sound of giggling shook me from my furious self pity. A muscular teenage boy sat on a rock not ten feet from me, juggling stones and apparently enjoying my discomfort greatly. The course wool and linen of his tunic and turban mirrored the browns and whites of the desert sand and stones, unpretentious and utilitarian. A long knife, almost a sword, hung from a loop on the boy's belt next to what looked tantalizingly like a waterskin.
I righted myself, brushing the sand from my front and held my hands up placatingly palms forward hands open in the most non-threatening gesture I could think of. I smiled and tried to speak to him, "Do you speak English?"
He yammered on unhelpfully in his native language, shaking his head in confusion. What did I expect, it's not like everyone learns English.
I'm terrible with languages, just ask anyone who's heard me speak latin if you don't believe me. You need a spell I'm your guy. You need a translation look elsewhere. Hey, just because I'm a wizard doesn't mean I know everything. Not that I'll ever admit it out loud but it's true.
Lucky for me I don't have speak the language to understand it. I'm a wizard. I cheat. I closed my eyes and focused on a walled off section of my thoughts, sending a question into my own mind, "Do you understand what he's saying."
A warm feeling of satisfaction that was decidedly not my own echoed in the recesses of my consciousness. They were the feelings of the creature residing within my own mind, the fallen angel Lasciel.
Well, that's not exactly true. She isn't really Lasciel.
She was a psychic construct who's abilities and mindset mirrored that of the real Lasciel. The fallen angel's coin was buried and warded underneath my apartment, but her shadow persisted offering me temptations. She would offer help and power all with the intention of getting me to take up the mantle of the Denarians. She was a dangerous and untrustworthy ally, only to be enlisted sparingly.
Lash's cheerful voice replied in a chipper glee titter that mirrored song as I felt the distinct sensation of a phantom hand, warm and friendly, on my shoulder, "Yes my host, of course I can."
"You know I hate it when you do that," I brushed my hand across my shoulder, dismissing the phantom hand. A subtle pang of regret for the loss of closeness and I clenched my teeth in annoyance. I would not allow Lash to manipulate me.
"Just speak my host, and the words will come out as you need them to be."
Lash's smile rang in the back of my head as the boy's words twisted into English, incongruous with the natural movements of his lips like a dubbed Kung Fu flick. He'd apparently taken my silence for anger.
"Not that it couldn't have happened to anyone," he looked me up and down, taking in the substantial mass of my tall lanky frame, "I mean... you're big and have a lot of... not that you're fat... just... Talk damn you!"
"I'm looking for water," I interrupted his ranting, startling him into silence, "Where is it?"
"Oh," he sighed in relief, "Thank the gods, I feared the sea of sand had left your mind addled. The Eye of Ra often leaves men with little in the way of sanity."
"The eyes of Ra?" I repeated in confusion.
The boy pointed up to the sky, gesturing to the sun the way one might to for a child who was a bit slow. His smile was a bit too placating and friendly, in an unnecessarily convivial way, "Ra looks down on us always."
He ran a hand across his head, scratching at a mess of curly hair under his turban and exposing a tattoo in the center of his forehead. An elaborate design of raised arms around a twisted pair of snakes stood out glaringly on the dark skin of his face.
"If you say so," I waved vaguely in the direction he'd apparently come from dismissively ignoring his comment about gods, "So about this water."
"You haven't run away from one of the camps have you?" The boy's hand strayed to his dagger, "A deserter."
I glared at him in annoyance, "Kid I don't even know what country I'm in. So how about we skip ahead in this conversation to the point where we get me to that water."
"I am not just some mere child I am a Jaffa warrior," He balked at my insult, "Chosen by the gods, you will show me respect!"
"Uh huh," I leaned on my staff and shook my head, "Nope I don't think so."
"You challenge my honor?"
"No, I defy a petulant teenager too caught up in himself to realize that he's bullying a man lost in the desert," I gave him my most ominous wizardly glare, the one I reserve for fairy queens and members of the DMV, "Now I'm going to ask one more time before I stop being nice. Which way is water?"
"Enough Dera," A stern voice echoed across the dunes, "That will do."
A man in thick skirted chain-mail armor strode across the dunes surveying me over the lip of his high-necked armor. He held a heavy metal mace longer than my own wizard's staff tipped with a bulbous protrusion at each end covered in nicks and dents, a well used weapon. His broad mass and barely controlled muscles paired with a serene self confidence marked him as a uniquely dangerous individual.
The boy blushed and sheathed his sword, taking care not to look into the armored man's eyes, "Master Ul'tak, he challenged my honor."
"No Dera, you challenge your own honor. He only challenges his thirst," The older man reached over and slapped the boy across the back of the head, "The gods have no use for a foolish warrior who pulls out his blade when he could simply point to the road."
"Master I tried," The boy protested vehemently.
"Do not question me Dera, you are not so far past your prim'ta that you can claim to know more than I. You will go back to the village and see Ferun for additional training today. As you seem determined to use your blade you will do so against someone who can be expected to fight back," His dismissive appraisal of me was closer to the truth than I would have liked. I wasn't sure if I could fight off a cocker spaniel at the moment.
"Yes master," the boy bowed and ran up the dune, leaving me alone with the armored man.
"Uh, hi," I greeted him somewhat lamely.
He turned to me and eyed me the same way one might look at a disobedient hound. He tilted his head one way, then the other, memorizing my features. After a few minutes of close examination he finally spoke, "Who are you and how did you get here."
"The name's Harry Dresden. I got lost and ended up here," I flashed my most dazzling smile, "It was an accident."
"No," He shook his head, "It was not. People do not come here by accident. They are here by the will of the gods." His hand caressed the club in subtle menace, "They leave at their pleasure. You do not belong."
"No disagreement there," I slapped a particularly large insect off my neck that was so big it probably should have registered it's flight plan with the FAA, "I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can, I'm not here to cause trouble. Just give me some water and point me in the direction of America."
"Perhaps Dera was correct," he glared imperiously into my eyes, "You have altogether too much arrogance for a Tau'ri."
"Try it," I held my staff in both hands, taking up an offensive posture and standing my ground, "I'll give you one hell of a fight if I have to."
The man started laughing heartily, "You truly have no idea who I am do you?"
"Not a clue," I shrugged apologetically, "But if it makes you feel any better I'd probably do the same if I did."
"I can't tell if you're fearless, ignorant, or a skilled liar," the man shook his head, "But it is not for me to decide."
"Who does decide?" I licked my chapped lips, "And do they have water?"
"Come with me Harry of Dresden and we will see to your needs for now," The man held out his hand in a gesture of friendship, "The great god Heka will decide what to do with you when he arrives through the Eye of the Gods."
I took his hand into my own and shook firmly, going with it when he moved his arm to a hold further down my forearm and imitating in kind. His face broke into a genuine smile, "I think I like you Tau'ri. Do not make me regret this decision."
I followed the man's loping pace as he turned at waded across the dunes, ignoring the hissing chirp of Lasciels stifled gales of laughter. Somehow I got the distinct sense that the joke was on me.
Book 1: God's Eye is concurrent with Book 1.5: Shattering Occam's Razor
Book 2: God's Blood is concurrent with Book 2.5: Manifest Disaster
The Murphy's Law short story falls between books 2 and 3.
Book 3: God's Heart
The Short Story Threads are supplemental to the main stories.
Visions of the Pantheon is from the POV of Goa'uld or Tok'ra. Letters From Home is from human or near human POVs.
The Short Story Threads are supplemental to the main stories.
Visions of the Pantheon is from the POV of Goa'uld or Tok'ra. Letters From Home is from human or near human POVs.
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Scraped from here.
Harry Dresden gets misplaced after the events of the Darkhallow. Suffice it to say tossed to the edge of the galaxy, he still manages to stir up trouble. After all, the universe exists to trouble Harry Dresden.
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A / N : This story starts at the end of Dead Beat, and progresses from that point onwards. I own neither Stargate Sg1 nor the Dresden Files.
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Cowl kept on chanting, and I saw his body arch with tension. Over the next minute or so, he actually, physically rose above the ground, until his boots were three or four inches in the air.
His voice had become part of the wild storm, part of the dark energy, and it rolled and boomed and echoed all around us. I began to understand the kind of power we were dealing with. It was power as deep as an ocean, and as broad as the sky.
It was dark and lethal and horrible and beautiful, and Cowl was about to take it all in. The strength it would give him would not make him a match for the entire White Council. It would put him in a league so far beyond them that their strength would mean virtually nothing.
It was power enough to change the world. To reshape it after one's own liking.
The tip of the vortex spun down, danced lightly upon Cowl's lips, and then slipped gently between them. Cowl howled out the last repetition of his chant, his mouth opening wide. I ground my teeth.
Bob hadn't been able to help me, and I couldn't let Cowl complete the spell. Even if it killed me. I drew in my magic for the last spell I would ever throw, a blast to slam into Cowl, disrupt the spell, let that vast energy tear him to bits. Kumori sensed it and I heard her let out a short cry. The knife burned hot on my throat.
And then the dinosaur I'd summoned plunged through the clouds of wild spirits and headed directly for Kumori, her eyes blazing with brilliant orange flames. Tyrannosaur Bob let out a bellow and swiped one enormous talon at Kumori. Cowl's apprentice was tough and competent, but no amount of training or forethought can prepare you for the sight of an angry dinosaur coming to eat your ass.
She froze for the briefest second, and I turned, shoving away from her. The knife whipped against my throat, I felt a hot sting. I wondered if that was what Grevane had felt.
There was no more time. I flung myself across the grass, gripped my staff in both hands, and swung it like a baseball bat at Cowl's head.
The blow connected, right on what felt like the tip of his upturned jaw, snapping his mouth shut and knocking him to the ground. The vortex abruptly screamed and filled with a furious red light. I choked out a cry and fell down on my right side to the ground, bringing up my shield bracelet and holding it over me in an effort to protect myself from the vast forces now flying free from the botched spell.
There was more sound, so loud that no word could accurately describe it, incandescent lightning, screaming faces, and forms of spirits and ghosts, and trembling earth beneath me.
And blackness fell.
When I came to my senses there was no vortex of dark magic, no lightning, no storm, no rain. No signs that there had been a battle between necromancers at all. There was also no field and no signs that I was anywhere remotely in Chicago.
I lay there for a moment, the aching throb of my ribs competing with the swirling pains in my head. I slowly gathered my wits, assessing my surroundings. The dark quiet sounds of night echoed around me, tiny chirps and soft cries of night-time creatures murmuring passively in the shadowy forrest around me.
Something furry and rodent like sniffed my face inquisitively before scuttling away in fear, monkeyish in its gait. I looked down and saw that I had fallen around Bob the skull and curled my body around him as I had shielded myself.
Orange flame flickered to life in the eye sockets. "Some show, huh?" Bob said. He sounded exhausted.
"You had to go get the dinosaur, eh?" I said. "I figured you'd just grab a handy zombie."
"Why settle for wieners when you can have steak?" the skull said brightly. "Pretty good idea, Harry, talking to me once Cowl sat me on the ground. I didn't want to work for him anyway, but as long as he had the skull…well. You know how it is."
I grunted. "Yeah. What happened?"
"The spell backlashed when you slugged Cowl," Bob said. "Did a bit of property damage."
I coughed out a little laugh, looking around me. "Yeah. Cowl?"
"Most likely there are little pieces of him still filtering down," Bob said brightly. "And his little dog, too."
"You see them die?" I asked.
"Well. No. Once that backlash came down, it tore apart every enchantment within a hundred miles. Your dinosaur sort of fell apart." He blinked in surprise as he realized where we were.
"Oh," Bob said, "Uh... Harry we aren't where we're supposed to be."
I grunted, "I noticed Bob."
"That's not supposed to happen boss," The flickering flames in the skull's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "I mean, sure it should have killed you or well made you into a god but not just moved you..."
"Don't sound so disappointed," I shook my head frustratedly, "It figures, I never follow any of the rules with any other thing in my life. Why should this happen logically?"
Bob snorted impressively for someone without lungs, "It doesn't work like that, the laws of physics have to operate in a certain way. Murphy's law doesn't apply to magic."
I lifted myself to my feet gingerly, stretching my legs and trying to massage the stiffness out of my body, "Well apparently there are a couple of laws of physics we didn't take into account because this isn't Kansas Dorthy."
Bob didn't really have much to say to that.
I lifted the silver pentacle my mother gave me, a representation of the five elements bound by a circle of control, and put a small effort of will into it. The forrest came into view bathed in the dull bluish white luminescence of my magic. The interweaved branches of the tightly packed trees spread dark and spidery patterns of light in the distance, only hinting at the path beyond.
"Any guesses at where we are Bob?"
"Not a clue boss," Bob's voice became pensive, "Could you give me a better look at those trees?"
"Uh, yeah sure," I lifted the skull and put its face nearly up to the bark.
"Oh no," Bob coughed, "Er... Boss... these trees are tropical. As in not in America."
"Ok," I sighed, "So where are we then?"
"Laos, Cambodia, Brazil, Australia, how should I know? Trees aren't really my thing," Bob said scathingly,
"Just open a portal to the Nevernever so we can go back home."
I gave Bob an inquisitive look. Opening a way wasn't the same as just opening a door. Opening an unmapped way into the Nevernever could easily drop me in the middle of some big nasty faeries or the center of a cloud of poison. As a creature of the Nevernever Bob knew this better than I did. "You sure about that Bob?"
"There are a lot of nasty creatures in the rainforest Sahib, without knowing what you're doing it's probably less dangerous for you to deal with the Fairies. Between poisonous snakes, crocodiles, piranhas and armed rebels you're probably better off there."
I didn't really have a counter argument to that. I waved my staff across the air in front of me and whispered,
"Aparturum." A shimmering hole of air appeared in front of me, a small portal into the world between ours and what lay beyond. I tucked Bob's skull back into the makeshift pouch tied to my waist and walked through.
The thin skin of magic between spaces felt different than it usually did, some how more greasy than the sensation I usually associated with crossing over. A tingling sensation of menace, I was not somewhere nice.
The light of my pendant shone out into the pitch black space of the Nevernever, illuminating jagged spikes and spires of stone. I winced as I turned and one of the razor sharp spines cut the back of my hand, spreading a narrow spray of blood.
It dripped down my fingers and to the ground before I had even realized my hand was cut, sticky wet redness dropping the the ground. Nothing good ever comes from blood in the Nevernever.
"Uh oh... I take back what I said about the snakes," Bob said, the single eye light peeking out of the makeshift skull carrier I'd made from an old T-shirt tentatively, "Uh Harry... we should leave..."
"Where are we Bob?"
"Don't worry about that Harry. Just go, now." Bob was worried. Bob was never worried. Annoyed, angry, frustrated but never afraid. As a spirit of intellect he generally felt such mortal concerns were beneath his interests.
"Where Bob!" I hissed under my breath, wrapping my hand in a strip of my shirt.
"The Outside. We're on the border of the Outside."
"Oh, god no."
The Nevernever was the space between our world, the real world, and what lay beyond. Demons and Faeries came from the Nevernever and while they weren't nice by anyone's standards they obeyed certain physical laws, followed certain metaphysical constants. The Outside was different, outsiders weren't bound by the sorts of magics and physics the rest of us had to deal with, the servants of the Old Gods they had unimaginable powers of nightmare and corruption.
Though shalt not open the outer gates was a law of magic so profound the White Council would consign someone to death for committing, a crime on par with murder or necromancy. Anything that chose to live on the edge of Nevernever wasn't something I wanted to meet. The creatures of the outside were so evil that even speaking of them risked death. Demons and faeries were callous and evil, outsiders were something else entirely. Unnatural and wrong.
Not something I wanted to tangle with at the best of times, especially not when every fibre of my being was screaming to just lie down for a week and sleep. I was barely standing on my own two feet, in no shape to be battling the creatures who chose to sleep in the shadow of the outer realms.
It was time to leave.
I turned to re-enter my portal and discovered, much to my horror, that it was no longer there, "Bob what happened?"
"It's the border to the outside Harry, ways to the real world don't last long here. You're going to have to open another one." Bob whined, "And you'd better do it quick."
I waved my staff and chanted the spell to open a door. Nothing happened, "Bob it's not working."
"That's not good." Bob looked out into the distance with his glowing eye in the direction of a distorted howl echoing out in the darkness where some nightmare creature smelled blood, "Because it sounds like the natives are restless."
I ran.
There's no shame in avoiding something you can't handle taking on directly, not when your life is on the line. It may not have been the most manly thing for me to do but I stand by my decision. I fled, stumbling in the near blinding darkness scrambling over the razor sharp outcroppings of rock. They cut into my shoes and my duster, the magically enhanced leather of my coat weathering the treatment far better than the rubber of my Nikes.
Engineered for the most perfect running experience my ass. They have yet to make a pair of shoes that can survive more that a couple weeks of my lifestyle before reverting to a sneaker like mass of torn fabric and laces barely fit to cover a foot.
I caught a glimpse of something lithe and cloying launched itself at me from above, howling bloody murder as it leapt towards me with outstretched claws. The burned flesh of my arm puckered as I raised my own mangled paw skywards, spreading my fingers and shoving a barrier of force between myself and the screaming thing. With a fleshy crack the creature bounced off my shield and into the razor sharp spines of stone, slicing its chest into a mess of gore and forcing me to my knees with a starling impact.
I rolled to the left as Bob screamed, "Behind you boss!"
A second fanged mess of matted fur wriggled past me, serpentine and slithering. Six glowing red pits shone in the darkness, undulating in a way eyes had no right to move. It sprung forwards, jaw dislocating wide enough to swallow me whole. I shoved forward with my staff, channeling momentum in the opposite direction of the creature. The wood collided with the inside of the creature's jaw like a cannon shot, the exploding viscera of the creatures head punctuated by my scream of, "Forzare."
Creatures jabbered, chittered and howled in the distance, promising further violence to come. My staff, still covered in the thick ichor of the creature's blood, crackled with the unsightly power of the outer realms. Playing a hunch I splashed my staff down into the pooling blood beneath the creature and yelled "Apartum," all too aware that the screaming voices were less and less distant with every second.
A narrow tear in the fabric of the Nevernever punched through the air, ephemeral and feeble by powered by the unnatural energies of the creature's blood. I dived through it and into a wide desert, stopping abruptly as a clawed hand shot out through the portal to the Nevernever and grabbed me by the ankle, talons sinking into the soft meat of my leg.
I screamed in pain and smashed my staff across the oblong face that jutted out of my way to the Nevernever, bursting a bulbous mass that might have been an eye. With a blunt screech of annoyance and a snuffling whoop the creature dragged me towards its fanged proboscis.
I reached out with my hand and punched forward, releasing the small reserve of energy left in them. The creature's hand buckled and twisted, breaking from it's arm at the wrist, severing tendons and ichor from the chitinous bundles of flesh. The creature's snarl of fury turned to a yelp of fear as the force of my attack disrupted the delicate magical energies of the doorway to the Nevernever, breaking the connection and collapsing the gateway with an immediate sucking gust.
Its distorted face fell to the dune, dissolving into ectoplasm. The viscous fluid quickly evaporated in the heat of the desert sand. That was one of the good things about creatures from the Nevernever, they tended not to leave a mess.
I sat on the dune massaging my leg waiting for the pain to subside, surveying my surroundings. I'd gone from Tarzan to a scene out of Lawrence of Arabia. The desert was surprisingly hospitable by comparison to the part of the Nevernever it opened up on. White tufts of sand billowed with the gentle breeze, sending shimmering patterns along the haze of heat on the horizon.
My coat, enchanted to never be too hot or too cold, was blissfully cool in the baking sun. Sometimes it's really cool to be a wizard, what can I say.
Falling back on my survival skills I pulled the pocket compass I keep in my duster pocket out and held it in the palm of my hand, watching the red and white needles as they spun backwards and forwards. The little red arrow finally came to a halt, shivering unhelpfully in the direction of my shadow. I tapped the compass to be sure but be damned, that little red arrow kept pointing to my shadow.
There was something in these dunes messing with the magnetic fields of the area I supposed, there are places like that in the Rocky Mountains. They screw with all sorts of things like cell phones and GPS's, or so I hear. I've never really gotten the chance to use a cell phone or a GPS. Anything more complex than a toaster oven has a bad habit of going wonky around a Wizard, even my old rotary telephone has to be repaired ever year or so due to the buildup of magical feedback.
Lucky for me I wasn't looking for north.
For all intents and purposes I was stranded in the desert till I could nurse my wounds and find a safe way into the Nevernever. I sure as hell wasn't going to risk opening up another way so close to the outside. Hell's bells, I might open up a door inside of it.
Staying in the desert meant finding water, and finding it fast. Even with my climate controlled coat, I would sweat out a dangerous amount of water in this heat. Magic can't make something from nothing and even a Wizard was only human. I would get dehydrated.
I hawked a lugie onto the back of the compass and whispered, "Agua dondé." Admittedly not the most impressive somatic component to a spell but I'd not been particularly poetic in my high school days. Casting is mostly about intent, if you believe that a certain set of words will invoke a certain power then it will. The more you believe it and the more you practice it the more it becomes part of your magic.
My spanish may have been downright awful, but my spell worked like a charm. The little red arrow spun in the opposite direction, eagerly pointing me to the nearest source of drinkable water. Humming the theme to Aladdin I trudged out across the desert.
Walking in sand isn't fun. Not the sort of packed and prepared sand you have on most beaches, that stuff is pretty much groomed to make it as nice for tourists as it can be, the real stuff. Sand dunes are more difficult to walk through than some of the worst backwoods trails. The deceptively smooth skin of the dunes conceals its shifting and treacherous nature.
The ground is uneven and unsteady, putting your foot in the wrong spot can just as easily agitate something venomous underground as cause an avalanche and bury you alive. There's a reason desert nomads tend to be no-nonsense types, when walking ten feet over open ground can kill you it tends to weed out optimism.
I hobbled forwards through the dunes, testing my path with my staff to make sure that no snakes or scorpions were in my way. I didn't think I was in America, I've been in the American Southwest enough to be able to recognize that sort of rocky, flat desert terrain. And I'd have remembered the blue and green striped lizards if I'd seen them.
They looked a bit like an iguana, but the nose was wrong. It was scrunched and angled upwards like some sort of deep sea fish. They lay in the dunes with their mouth's open in imitation of a flowering shrub. They waited for flies and small birds to try to harvest nectar before snapping shut, swallowing their prey whole.
Either venomous or unaccustomed to predators they observed me with disinterested casual aplomb, mildly aware of my existence. They weren't going to allow something so obviously unimportant to interrupt their meal. The regal disdain in their upturned noses reminded me of my own cat, Mister.
I'd been adopted by the Tomcat after I found him on the streets. We'd come to the arrangement that in exchange for caring for all of his needs and desires I would be allowed to continue cohabiting with his august personage. With time I'd come to realize that I'd been accepted into his apartment and was a member of his family. He'd been a fixture in my daily life for years, a 30lb ball of fluff and muscle eager for a scratch behind the ears and whatever food was available.
I could trust Thomas to feed him while I was gone. Thomas would make sure Mister and Mouse, my dog, were cared for in my absence. After all, what was family for? He may have been an Vampire of the White Court, an Incubus, but Thomas was my brother. I trusted him.
We'd both grown up lonely, he and I. Both of us desperately wanting a family, a real family. The sort that loves you and is there for holidays and the like. Our mother died giving birth to me. My father died when I was young and my foster parent, Justin DuMorne, was the closest thing to Darth Vader you'll find this side of Tatooine. I killed him with magic to save my own life when he tried to enslave my mind. Thomas' father and his twisted excuse for a family still lived, but when I compare my childhood and his I'm not sure who had it worse.
And more than likely he currently believed I was dead. I had to get home, had to let him know that I was alive and well. Thomas was a good man but if he didn't have my support any more he might well fall to his darker urges. For a vampire of the White Court that could easily get someone killed.
Too preoccupied with my own worries about Thomas' safety to worry about my own I stumbled over my own feet, rolling down a large dune uncomfortably clutching my body in a protective ball around Bob's skull. If it shattered and exposed Bob to sunlight it would burn the magic that made up his body to cinders, killing him. It was worth a few extra bruises to avoid that.
I landed at the base of the dune upside down in a substantially less than graceful pose. My staff thumped down into my kneecap, bouncing off it and onto the ground next to me. I swore angrily, cursing the dune, the staff, my knee, and the disciples of Kemmler for sending me to this godforsaken scrap of nowhere.
The sound of giggling shook me from my furious self pity. A muscular teenage boy sat on a rock not ten feet from me, juggling stones and apparently enjoying my discomfort greatly. The course wool and linen of his tunic and turban mirrored the browns and whites of the desert sand and stones, unpretentious and utilitarian. A long knife, almost a sword, hung from a loop on the boy's belt next to what looked tantalizingly like a waterskin.
I righted myself, brushing the sand from my front and held my hands up placatingly palms forward hands open in the most non-threatening gesture I could think of. I smiled and tried to speak to him, "Do you speak English?"
He yammered on unhelpfully in his native language, shaking his head in confusion. What did I expect, it's not like everyone learns English.
I'm terrible with languages, just ask anyone who's heard me speak latin if you don't believe me. You need a spell I'm your guy. You need a translation look elsewhere. Hey, just because I'm a wizard doesn't mean I know everything. Not that I'll ever admit it out loud but it's true.
Lucky for me I don't have speak the language to understand it. I'm a wizard. I cheat. I closed my eyes and focused on a walled off section of my thoughts, sending a question into my own mind, "Do you understand what he's saying."
A warm feeling of satisfaction that was decidedly not my own echoed in the recesses of my consciousness. They were the feelings of the creature residing within my own mind, the fallen angel Lasciel.
Well, that's not exactly true. She isn't really Lasciel.
She was a psychic construct who's abilities and mindset mirrored that of the real Lasciel. The fallen angel's coin was buried and warded underneath my apartment, but her shadow persisted offering me temptations. She would offer help and power all with the intention of getting me to take up the mantle of the Denarians. She was a dangerous and untrustworthy ally, only to be enlisted sparingly.
Lash's cheerful voice replied in a chipper glee titter that mirrored song as I felt the distinct sensation of a phantom hand, warm and friendly, on my shoulder, "Yes my host, of course I can."
"You know I hate it when you do that," I brushed my hand across my shoulder, dismissing the phantom hand. A subtle pang of regret for the loss of closeness and I clenched my teeth in annoyance. I would not allow Lash to manipulate me.
"Just speak my host, and the words will come out as you need them to be."
Lash's smile rang in the back of my head as the boy's words twisted into English, incongruous with the natural movements of his lips like a dubbed Kung Fu flick. He'd apparently taken my silence for anger.
"Not that it couldn't have happened to anyone," he looked me up and down, taking in the substantial mass of my tall lanky frame, "I mean... you're big and have a lot of... not that you're fat... just... Talk damn you!"
"I'm looking for water," I interrupted his ranting, startling him into silence, "Where is it?"
"Oh," he sighed in relief, "Thank the gods, I feared the sea of sand had left your mind addled. The Eye of Ra often leaves men with little in the way of sanity."
"The eyes of Ra?" I repeated in confusion.
The boy pointed up to the sky, gesturing to the sun the way one might to for a child who was a bit slow. His smile was a bit too placating and friendly, in an unnecessarily convivial way, "Ra looks down on us always."
He ran a hand across his head, scratching at a mess of curly hair under his turban and exposing a tattoo in the center of his forehead. An elaborate design of raised arms around a twisted pair of snakes stood out glaringly on the dark skin of his face.
"If you say so," I waved vaguely in the direction he'd apparently come from dismissively ignoring his comment about gods, "So about this water."
"You haven't run away from one of the camps have you?" The boy's hand strayed to his dagger, "A deserter."
I glared at him in annoyance, "Kid I don't even know what country I'm in. So how about we skip ahead in this conversation to the point where we get me to that water."
"I am not just some mere child I am a Jaffa warrior," He balked at my insult, "Chosen by the gods, you will show me respect!"
"Uh huh," I leaned on my staff and shook my head, "Nope I don't think so."
"You challenge my honor?"
"No, I defy a petulant teenager too caught up in himself to realize that he's bullying a man lost in the desert," I gave him my most ominous wizardly glare, the one I reserve for fairy queens and members of the DMV, "Now I'm going to ask one more time before I stop being nice. Which way is water?"
"Enough Dera," A stern voice echoed across the dunes, "That will do."
A man in thick skirted chain-mail armor strode across the dunes surveying me over the lip of his high-necked armor. He held a heavy metal mace longer than my own wizard's staff tipped with a bulbous protrusion at each end covered in nicks and dents, a well used weapon. His broad mass and barely controlled muscles paired with a serene self confidence marked him as a uniquely dangerous individual.
The boy blushed and sheathed his sword, taking care not to look into the armored man's eyes, "Master Ul'tak, he challenged my honor."
"No Dera, you challenge your own honor. He only challenges his thirst," The older man reached over and slapped the boy across the back of the head, "The gods have no use for a foolish warrior who pulls out his blade when he could simply point to the road."
"Master I tried," The boy protested vehemently.
"Do not question me Dera, you are not so far past your prim'ta that you can claim to know more than I. You will go back to the village and see Ferun for additional training today. As you seem determined to use your blade you will do so against someone who can be expected to fight back," His dismissive appraisal of me was closer to the truth than I would have liked. I wasn't sure if I could fight off a cocker spaniel at the moment.
"Yes master," the boy bowed and ran up the dune, leaving me alone with the armored man.
"Uh, hi," I greeted him somewhat lamely.
He turned to me and eyed me the same way one might look at a disobedient hound. He tilted his head one way, then the other, memorizing my features. After a few minutes of close examination he finally spoke, "Who are you and how did you get here."
"The name's Harry Dresden. I got lost and ended up here," I flashed my most dazzling smile, "It was an accident."
"No," He shook his head, "It was not. People do not come here by accident. They are here by the will of the gods." His hand caressed the club in subtle menace, "They leave at their pleasure. You do not belong."
"No disagreement there," I slapped a particularly large insect off my neck that was so big it probably should have registered it's flight plan with the FAA, "I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can, I'm not here to cause trouble. Just give me some water and point me in the direction of America."
"Perhaps Dera was correct," he glared imperiously into my eyes, "You have altogether too much arrogance for a Tau'ri."
"Try it," I held my staff in both hands, taking up an offensive posture and standing my ground, "I'll give you one hell of a fight if I have to."
The man started laughing heartily, "You truly have no idea who I am do you?"
"Not a clue," I shrugged apologetically, "But if it makes you feel any better I'd probably do the same if I did."
"I can't tell if you're fearless, ignorant, or a skilled liar," the man shook his head, "But it is not for me to decide."
"Who does decide?" I licked my chapped lips, "And do they have water?"
"Come with me Harry of Dresden and we will see to your needs for now," The man held out his hand in a gesture of friendship, "The great god Heka will decide what to do with you when he arrives through the Eye of the Gods."
I took his hand into my own and shook firmly, going with it when he moved his arm to a hold further down my forearm and imitating in kind. His face broke into a genuine smile, "I think I like you Tau'ri. Do not make me regret this decision."
I followed the man's loping pace as he turned at waded across the dunes, ignoring the hissing chirp of Lasciels stifled gales of laughter. Somehow I got the distinct sense that the joke was on me.
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Todeswind
Begrudgingly thread marking.
- Location
- Ry'leth
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?Narf the Mouse said:
Todeswind
Begrudgingly thread marking.
- Location
- Ry'leth
Did you read this exact story on FFN? It's been up there for like six months now.Narf the Mouse said:
Todeswind
Begrudgingly thread marking.
- Location
- Ry'leth
After an hour of trudging through the sandy paths that led to the city of Nekheb I was absolutely convinced that I deeply needed to get in better shape. Beaten and battered from my recent necromancer punch up, I was huffing and puffing to keep up with Ul'Tak's long-shanked strides.
Thank god he'd shared from his water-skin or I wouldn't have made it. The water was hot and tasted vaguely of the animal the leather pouch had been cured from but as thirsty as I was it might as well have been ambrosia. I lapped up the water greedily as we walked, taking him at his word that he wouldn't need any.
Which brought me to my second conclusion. Ul'Tak wasn't human, at least not wholly so. There was something in his physical presence that was too deliberate for him to be vanilla mortal. His eyes focused a bit too far into the horizon, his heavy metal staff shouldn't have been carried one handed, and his heavy links mail troubled him no more than a T-shirt might have.
And I don't care how tough you are or how manly you think you are, you aren't going to be able to wear metal armor hot enough to fry an egg in the desert without sweating. Even Michael would have had trouble managing that, fist of God or no. But there he was, not even looking like he noticed the heat.
I hadn't been able to place his species yet, though I could be reasonably sure he wasn't a creature of the Nevernever. A fairy wouldn't ever willingly wear a jewelery of iron, the ferrous metal would burn their skin like acid.
That still left an unimaginably wide range of creatures to chose from. He referred to himself as a Jaffa, but I couldn't be sure if that were a nation, tribe, cast, or species.I could narrow that down once Bob and I had some privacy. For the moment 'not actively trying to kill me' was good enough for government work.
Which was just as well, because I kind of liked the guy.
He wasn't especially talkative, using few words and wasting fewer, but in his own way he had a rich sense of humor. I didn't get the half of it, but it spoke of a culture steeped in old ways and ancient tradition.
"Step too close to the servants of Apophis and you suffer his displeasure," he'd say when I stepped to close to the den of some poisonous creature or "The Tau'ri must walk on their own two feet before they try to fly," when he would step on loose shale and nearly fall.
He clearly considered me, a mere 'Tau'ri,' to be beneath him but there wasn't any malice in it. Humans were weak and frail, Jaffa were not. Ten miles of skirting disused goat paths and I was inclined to agree with him.
He could at least have pretended to be winded for my benefit, a man has his ego after all.
I whooped with joy when we climbed the summit of a particularly unpleasant hill made up of jagged rock formations and looked out into the valley beyond. Ul'tak, unamused by my antics, pointed over the wide sands to a vision in the distance, shimmering with the heat haze of the evening sun.
"Holy Pharaohs Batman," I whispered under my breath in amazement, "We are not absolutely not in Kansas any more Toto."
"Woof," Bob weakly whispered in reply from my waist as he looked out at the city beyond in equal shock.
There stood a secret city of pyramids and palaces untouched by the ravages of time and generations of grave robbers. Great structures pierced the sky that would have made Giza crawl up into a ball in shame, glittering with mirrored panels of gold and the shining white of polished marble. My inner nerd squealed in glee at the sight of several buildings which were unquestionably floating around the central pyramid.
Not flying, freaking floating as though gravity didn't apply to them. Many hundreds of tiny pyramid shaped ships flew in and out of the pyramids without any visible method of propulsion.
Catching sight of my dinner plate sized eyes Ul'tak chuckled in rich basso, "Yes, Nekheb. The Gem of Heka. The land of plenty, come Dre'su'den. Your thirst will soon be quenched."
He didn't have to tell me twice. We all but sprinted down the mountain, following a winding goat path covered in the footsteps of mail boots. If I'd been halfway conscious and not totally delirious from hunger and thirst it might have occurred to me that running towards the village full of preternaturally agile and strong creatures might not be the best idea.
Had I been paying attention I might not have run face first into a transparent barrier of energy blocking the outer gate to the city. I hit it with enough force to set my ears ringing and numb my lips from the discharge of electricity. My tongue, numbed by the abrupt electric shock, slurred my words drunkenly as I used a creative mix of profanity to demonstrate my displeasure.
"By the Gods I pray you are a spy," Ul'tak chuckled to himself as he waved to the guardhouse atop the wall, "Would that our enemies send such obvious infiltrators."
"I... but, wha?" Articulacy escaped me as the barrier shimmered out of existence then snapped back into place as we past. Stars and stones, the magical forces required to create a permanent barrier of that size had to be monumental. It would require concentrated geomancy and a level of skill that I'd only ever heard of as rumor before, "How on Earth?"
Clearly pleased at my reaction, Ul'tak slapped me across the shoulders, "The magics of the gods are not for us to understand, only to obey."
His claims of serving a god were starting to worry me. There were powerful beings on Earth, creatures who'd forged their magic through rites and rituals too terrible for moral man to comprehend. The gate to the White Council citadel in Edinburgh might have been just as strong as the gate to Nekheb but the gate had a physical form to it. Covered with runes and protective symbols to channel power the citadel's magics were a collective work of the bygone wizard-craft. The gate of Nekheb was power, pure and simple. No runes, no wards, no props, just a pure projection of power.
It was freaking scary.
I didn't know much about the Egyptian deities, other than that they were particularly nasty and fond of necromancy on a level that defied belief. If one of the ancient gods of the middle east really was in the city I wouldn't be able to take him one on one in a fight, not so close to his place of power. It would be like fighting Mab or Titania in the Nevernever.
It was madness to attack an old god close to his seat of power, it granted creatures of magic insight and abilities to dwarf my own at the best of times. If Heka wasn't friendly to your friendly neighborhood wizard bad things were on the horizon.
We would just have to hope the god was friendly.
Yeah, sure. Keep dreaming Harry.
Greeting my companion with a salute and a declaration of "first prime" a dozen Jaffa fell into step around Ul'Tak, oblong maces at the ready and faces devoid of emotion. The whole situation felt a bit 'sig heil' for my taste.
They marched me down the streets of the great city in a protective phalanx, as much to trap me in as keep dangers out. It was just as well to have them, or I might have gotten lost in the sea of humanity. In contrast to the great desert outside, Nekheb was a thriving metropolis.
As far as the eye could see there were people everywhere, real human people. A good head shorter than the Jaffa and clad in the sort of practical white linens one would expect from the Bedouin. Countless stalls sold savory meats and spiced vegetables that wafted their alluring smells across the city, mingling with the bitter but oh-so-glorious scent of coffee from behind the canvas sun screens of a the numerous cafés. Two blocks of delicious smells and enough was enough, "I need to eat something."
Ul'tak shoved me forwards, pushing hard into the middle of my back. "After you have spoken to Heka."
I dug my heels in and turned to face the man's stoic visage, taking care to have my own most wizardly glare, "No. I need to eat now. I'm no good to you hungry. It's in your best interest for me to eat."
The Jaffa tilted his head in confusion, "Explain."
"Look, if I actually am a spy you need me to be strong enough to withstand questioning. You can't get much out of me if I'm dead," the Jaffa laughed in amusement and I tried not to think too hard about the Egyptian death magic. They very well might have been able to get something out of me even after I'd died. I'd just have to make sure my death curse made that impossible.
I continued as though I hadn't noticed their laughter, "And if I'm not a spy it would be a violation of the rules of hospitality not to feed a weary traveler. If I am to defend myself I need the energy."
The laws of hospitality are a big deal to the supernatural community, even the biggest and baddest of them wouldn't consider violating them. Especially not the biggest and the baddest of them. So much of their power is tied up in rules that a violation of them would be dangerous, potentially fatally so.
A young Jaffa to Ul'tak's left chimed in, "Master Ul'tak let me teach this Tau'ri his place." He cracked his knuckles soundly to leave no doubt what he meant by it.
"No, no Bashir," Ul'tak shook his head and gestured with a finger to a street vendor. The astonished woman scurried over with her cart, bowing her head to avoid eye contact with the Jaffa, "Defeating a weak enemy proves nothing."
He pushed a thick coin into the woman's hands and pointed to me, "Feed him."
I took the pocket of meat and vegetables shoved into an unleavened bread from the woman with the most sincere "thank you" I could remember having given anyone, and bit into it with relish, enjoying the taste of spiced meat and yogurt sauce, "Move over Burger King, we have a new contender for the crown."
The Jaffa looked at me in stoic incomprehension. My wit is wasted on the supernatural community.
I devoured two of them, licking the wax paper they were served on to make sure none of the food was wasted, then drank a full flagon of water before nodding to Ul'tak, "I'm ready for anything. Thank you."
"You will earn that meal Dre'su'den." Ul'tak growled, "The hospitality of Heka is not without its price."
Slaked of hunger and thirst I followed my guide in apprehension as we marched through the city, wandering through avenues and paths that just hinted at many thousands of years of culture and development. Seemingly ancient hieroglyphs covered ziggurats stood atop multicolored frescoes of the Egyptian deities doing all sorts of godly things that couldn't have been more than a decade old.
It would have been beautiful if I hadn't been so god damned terrified. No longer hungry and starving my brain caught up to me enough to remind me why the name Heka sounded so freaking familiar. Heka was the Egyptian god of Magic, the king muckity-muck of all ritual magic.
And I had trespassed on his land. Stars and stones, just once I'd like for things to be easy.
"Not good Harry," Bob whispered to me as we walked past a row of spike mounted heads displayed as a warning to any would be heretics, "This is not good. The Egyptian pantheon was really not nice... Kemmler was fascinated with them... obsessed even... and you know nothing good ever came from something he liked."
"Shut up," I whispered back to the skull, "They'll hear you." I didn't need Bob reminding me of exactly how totally screwed I was. I knew that well enough on my own. And something told me that these people weren't going to react well to a disembodied head carrying a servitor spirit. Call it a hunch but I wasn't going to risk it.
I had to squint my eyes as we walked into the largest pyramid, the reflection of torchlight on the polished gold made it impossible to see through the blinding brightness. Stars blinked in my eyes as we walked the length of the corridor, passing servants and slaves dressed in altogether too little for my own sense of modesty.
"Donald Trump eat your heart out," I chuckled to myself as we passed a particularly nubile woman covered in piercings in places best left unmentioned as she sanctified a three story high statute of the god Heka.
Alluring chamber maidens dressed in even less than nothing kneeled on either side of the door, their shaved heads tattooed with a thick mess of hieroglyphics that implied sorceries of the darkest sort. The women pulled apart a set of thick purple velvet curtains, allowing Ul'tak to pass into the inner chamber.
The Sanctum Sanctorum of Heka, god of Magic.
Stars and stones it was gaudy.
At the far side of a wide chamber a man of Middle Eastern heritage lounged upon a throne that appeared to have been cut from a giant hunk of ruby. He sat in indolence, idly watching as two humans attacked each other with swords within circle ten yards wide surrounded by a barrier glowing with the same energy as the city gate. Even at a distance it made my skin pulse with the energy of ambient magic.
I gasped in horror as one of the men in the circle made a clumsy lunge with his blade, overbalancing and exposing himself to his opponent. The fatal blow echoed around the room with a fleshy thump of metal on bone. The winner severed his opponents head and held it up in triumph to the charnel cheers of the watching Jaffa. The sound echoed with their joyous blood lust.
The human servants continued with their everyday chores in the place, paying the lethal violence no attention at all. Years of such violent displays doubtlessly left them anesthetized to their appeal. In a way their silent acceptance disturbed me far more than the blood lust of the Jaffa ever could.
I could understand anger, lust, fear, death and hunger. But apathy? Total apathy? It terrified me.
I don't know what possessed me to open up my wizard's sight, curiosity or madness. I looked out at the crowd of cheering men and their god, only to see the glowing hateful eyes of serpents staring back at me in boundless lust. They protruded from the bellies of men, wrapping round their bodies like fleshy, barbed manacles.
Heka wore a noose of serpent that curled up over the head of him like a crown, preening regally whilst he screamed in eternal horror. A river of blood flowed from Heka's robes, soaking the ground as far as the eye could see with sorrowfully sticky red blood. A million arms reached out of the river, clawing at the hem of his robes in impotent fury. They bellowed their ghostly challenges calling him murderer and demon, but they couldn't even muss the hem of his garment.
I didn't vomit, but it was a close call as I closed all three of my eyes in horror. Heka was evil, plain and simple evil.
Evil and powerful, it was a dangerous combination.
Heka, amused by the gristly spectacle clapped his hands twice and dissolved the barrier. Speaking an a voice that rumbled with inhuman power he strode forward and accepted the severed head from his kneeling supplicant, "See how my faithful obey me. He has slain the unworthy and bolstered me with his power. I am Heka, and I am merciful."
He reached down and cradled the man's head, examining the deep cuts and bruises. He waved to a golden armored jaffa, "Take him to the Sarcophagus and see to his wounds. He has done well."
The man stumbled to his feet with the Jaffa's assistance, struggling to walk on a severed hamstring. His god watched him leave in mild paternal amusement, observing him like a favored pet, "Very well indeed."
He pointed a finger at the dismembered corpse and three bolts of lightning shot out from a device on his wrist, dissolving the corpse into vapor. No ash, no char, just two chirping bursts of lightning and the body vanished into thin air.
Ul'tak grabbed me by the nape of my neck and shoved me face first to the ground as his god crossed the circle. Unprepared for the rough treatment I squawked in protest as my face hit the stone, earning me a punch to the kidney for my troubles and knocking the wind out of me.
On bended knee he put his balled fist over his heart in salute, bowing his head in reverence, "My Lord Heka. I discovered this trespasser in the badlands at the edge of the Teeth of Sokkar."
"How interesting," The Egyptian deity examined me with predatory eyes covered in thick black makeup, pulling at a long braided beard on his chin. The thick jewelry on his right hand clacked and clattered against a palm sized ruby in his fist. The gem glowed with ambient power, hinting at the sorcerous might it concealed. I swallowed nervously wondering what other magics were up his sleeve, "No matter, it will provide what it knows before it dies."
"He claims not to be a spy," Ul'tak continued, "And I believe him."
"You are too credulous my first prime," Heka tutted malevolently, "However we can discover the truth of it. There are ways of making even the tightest of tongues loosen."
"I'm not a spy," I tried to lift my head, only to get kicked in the side by a Jaffa. Spitting up a mouthful of blood I repeated myself, "My name is Harry Dresden. I'm from Chicago. I am not a spy. I'm here by accident."
Heka reached down and touched the silver pentacle dangling from my neck, hissing in disgust. "A symbol of Osiris of the Ba Duat. And you claim not to be a spy?" The god laughed, a cruel echoing menace, "Unlikely."
"Hold on a second," Oh crap. This was not good, "Who gives you the right to tell me who I am? "
"A god need not justify himself to a mortal ant," Heka's eyes glowed with fury, shimmering with preternatural energies, "Jaffa kill him."
"I request that he be given Tek'pa'kor to prove his honor," Ul'tak bowed his head deferentially and put himself between Heka and myself, "Let him die with honor if he is to die."
"A right of combat? For a spy? " Heka laughed uproariously in his cruel cackle, "And does the Tau'ri consent to a trial by combat, knowing the price of failure. The fight is to the death."
"You aren't exactly giving me a whole heck of a lot of options," I gritted my teeth and looked up at the Heka in defiance, "I'm not going quietly. And if possible I'm not going at all." I wouldn't be able to fight my way out past a thousand soldiers, but I might be able to take a singe Jaffa in combat. Better to rely upon the protection of old world hospitality.
God bless the predictability of ancient supernatural beasties.
"Arrogance, defiance, pride," The god waved vaguely to the raised stone circle, "Rob him of these Ul'tak. I wish for this to end. I would have another Jaffa do the deed though. Ge'mok is in need of the training."
"As you wish my Lord," Ul'tak stood, lifting me to my feet one handed. Considering that I'm about seven feet tall and just shy of two hundred pounds that's no small feat.
Hundreds of tattooed faces watched us walk to the circle, eying me with mild amusement. I caught distant whispers of amusement from the Jaffa, none of them seemed to think I had a chance. Well to hell with them. It was time to show them what a Wizard of the White Council, a Warden no less, could do when backed into a corner.
"You may use any weapons you have on you Tau'ri. Once you step into the ring the barriers will rise and you will fight till one of you no longer lives," Ul'tak whispered into my ear as we went, doing his best to inform me of the rules in the seconds before the battle, "Ge'mok is not without a heart, he will allow you to wound him before he goes for the kill so that you may be buried with honor."
"And if I kill him first?" I cracked my knuckles and stretched my arms over my head, trying desperately not to notice the seven foot tall wall of pure muscle selecting weapons off the opposite wall. The man's biceps were the size of my entire torso, "What happens then?"
"It will be a shame for such foolish bravery to be extinguished," Ul'tak sighed disappointedly and quirked his brow in bemusement, "To the victor goes the prize, your life."
I pulled the glove from my mangled hand, balling the desiccated appendage into a fist, "I'll just have to make sure not to lose then."
Ul'tak incredulously watched the crippled human stride onto the stage like a conquering hero. I had to look absolutely absurd, haggard and still covered the detritus of the Darkhallow; more vagrant than fighter.
Well it's what you do that counted, not how you looked. And I had more than my share of doing left in me, "Bob, any suggestions?"
"Hit him till he doesn't move any more?" Bob's eye narrowed, focusing on the Jaffa, "Duels aren't exactly my specialty boss."
"Christ Bob," I snorted, "I could have figured that out on my own. What am I paying you for?"
"Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer," Bob hissed in reply, "I don't have the answer to every question, just the ones that matter."
"I kind of feel like this one counts," I snarled in annoyance as I watched Heka recline into his ruby seat.
The godling surveyed us from behind the barrier, reclining in his throne as he smiled and bellowed, "You who are about to die, we salute you."
The giant stepped into the ring, stamping the heel of his staff on the ground twice and bowing in salute to me as the blue energies of the barrier snapped into place. I cracked my staff in reply, tilting my heady sightly by way of reply before falling into a defensive posture.
Not that it did me any good.
With a speed entirely unfair for his size the massive man crossed the two yards between us, driving his staff into my midriff like a spear. I rolled with the impact, spinning around and cracking him across the back of the head with my own staff. The Jaffa roared in fury, jabbing backwards with the flaring silver cobra head on the bottom and catching me at my ankle in it's crook.
I had the time to yelp a surprised, "woah," before he'd flipped me onto my back and stomped a booted foot into my sternum with a kick that cracked bone audibly. My eyes bulged with pain and shock as he leaned into my fractured ribs, grinding his food backwards and forwards as he rose his staff for the killing blow, "I take no pleasure in this Tau'ri. May you find peace in the afterlife."
No more mister nice wizard. I raised my hand and tapped into the energies in my rings, splaying my fingers and shoving them upwards into Ge'mok's chest. His pity turned to astonishment as a shockwave of magical force flung him into the air, tossing him to collide with the hard stone a yard back.
I give the guy credit, he recovered from the shock of facing a wizard fast.
He rolled with the impact, tucking his body into a ball and twisting into a panful kneel before righting himself and advancing on me. He whirled his staff around his body in a complex motion that was nearly a dance, the glittering silvery metal flashing with reflections of the torchlight.
Then, without warning the end of his mace opened up like a blooming flower and a basketball sized burst of light rocketed out towards me with a thunderous squelch of energy. I raised my shield winched as the blinding force of it collided with the barrier, exploding into a thunderous burst of sound.
I ducked to avoid another two bursts of energy from the staff before screaming, "Vintas servitas."
My attacker fumbled with his weapon as an gust of sorcerous wind tried to tear it from his fingers, shouting in frustration. It gave me enough time to focus my mind and prepare what came next.
My battle magics weren't as powerful as they once had been. I hadn't used fire magic since losing my hand, even simple evocations of candle flame had been too much for me to manage. But fire wasn't the only elemental magic at my disposal.
My mentor, Ebeneezer McCoy, had insisted that I learn at least one application of earth magic. It would more or less tap me out on earth magic for the next week but given my adrenaline and my need it would have to do. I reached out to the energies around me, tapping into the ambient power bled off by the barrier trapping us inside the circle.
As Ge'mok righted his grasp on his staff I smashed the bottom of my staff into the ground, its runes glowing red hot and smoldering sulfurously as I tapped into the power of hellfire. The stone floor split in two, widening into a cavernous maw of empty earth into which the terrified Jaffa plummeted. I swung my gnarled paw in a cutting motion across my chest and pulled apart the magics keeping the earth split.
The Jaffa screamed in incomprehensible pain as the walls of the stone pit collided in a horrible wet twisting of pulverized flesh. Utter and complete silence filled the room as the blue barrier dropped, leaving me to face Heka as what remained of his servant bubbled up through cracks in the stone circle. Wet charnel syrup pooled into a puddle at the center of the circle.
I expected Heka to be angry, annoyed, possibly even furious. But when he looked into my eyes, all I saw was hunger. I pulled away as I felt the first tugs of a soul gaze, the last thing I wanted to know was what lay behind those terrible glowing eyes.
"I trust that satisfies your test," I growled in anger. I hadn't wanted to kill Ge'mok, shouldn't have needed to kill him. Something about being forced to kill a man for some lesser god's amusement was pissing me right the hell off, "Now let me go."
"I think not," The god smiled eagerly, "I couldn't possibly part with such a promising specimen. No, I have plans for you."
"Like hell!" I growled, "You promised me my freedom."
"I promised you honor," Heka grinned predatory, "There is no greater honor than being the host to your god. Jaffa kree."
I heard a chirruping sound that reminded me of crickets echoing from behind me, and then everything faded to black. Just not my day all around, today was just awful. And tomorrow wasn't fixing to be any better.
Stars and stones I needed a vacation.
--
A/N - Typed on my iPhone so I expect there is some obvious error I missed. Just point it out via PM so I can fix it. Cheers and thanks for reading
Thank god he'd shared from his water-skin or I wouldn't have made it. The water was hot and tasted vaguely of the animal the leather pouch had been cured from but as thirsty as I was it might as well have been ambrosia. I lapped up the water greedily as we walked, taking him at his word that he wouldn't need any.
Which brought me to my second conclusion. Ul'Tak wasn't human, at least not wholly so. There was something in his physical presence that was too deliberate for him to be vanilla mortal. His eyes focused a bit too far into the horizon, his heavy metal staff shouldn't have been carried one handed, and his heavy links mail troubled him no more than a T-shirt might have.
And I don't care how tough you are or how manly you think you are, you aren't going to be able to wear metal armor hot enough to fry an egg in the desert without sweating. Even Michael would have had trouble managing that, fist of God or no. But there he was, not even looking like he noticed the heat.
I hadn't been able to place his species yet, though I could be reasonably sure he wasn't a creature of the Nevernever. A fairy wouldn't ever willingly wear a jewelery of iron, the ferrous metal would burn their skin like acid.
That still left an unimaginably wide range of creatures to chose from. He referred to himself as a Jaffa, but I couldn't be sure if that were a nation, tribe, cast, or species.I could narrow that down once Bob and I had some privacy. For the moment 'not actively trying to kill me' was good enough for government work.
Which was just as well, because I kind of liked the guy.
He wasn't especially talkative, using few words and wasting fewer, but in his own way he had a rich sense of humor. I didn't get the half of it, but it spoke of a culture steeped in old ways and ancient tradition.
"Step too close to the servants of Apophis and you suffer his displeasure," he'd say when I stepped to close to the den of some poisonous creature or "The Tau'ri must walk on their own two feet before they try to fly," when he would step on loose shale and nearly fall.
He clearly considered me, a mere 'Tau'ri,' to be beneath him but there wasn't any malice in it. Humans were weak and frail, Jaffa were not. Ten miles of skirting disused goat paths and I was inclined to agree with him.
He could at least have pretended to be winded for my benefit, a man has his ego after all.
I whooped with joy when we climbed the summit of a particularly unpleasant hill made up of jagged rock formations and looked out into the valley beyond. Ul'tak, unamused by my antics, pointed over the wide sands to a vision in the distance, shimmering with the heat haze of the evening sun.
"Holy Pharaohs Batman," I whispered under my breath in amazement, "We are not absolutely not in Kansas any more Toto."
"Woof," Bob weakly whispered in reply from my waist as he looked out at the city beyond in equal shock.
There stood a secret city of pyramids and palaces untouched by the ravages of time and generations of grave robbers. Great structures pierced the sky that would have made Giza crawl up into a ball in shame, glittering with mirrored panels of gold and the shining white of polished marble. My inner nerd squealed in glee at the sight of several buildings which were unquestionably floating around the central pyramid.
Not flying, freaking floating as though gravity didn't apply to them. Many hundreds of tiny pyramid shaped ships flew in and out of the pyramids without any visible method of propulsion.
Catching sight of my dinner plate sized eyes Ul'tak chuckled in rich basso, "Yes, Nekheb. The Gem of Heka. The land of plenty, come Dre'su'den. Your thirst will soon be quenched."
He didn't have to tell me twice. We all but sprinted down the mountain, following a winding goat path covered in the footsteps of mail boots. If I'd been halfway conscious and not totally delirious from hunger and thirst it might have occurred to me that running towards the village full of preternaturally agile and strong creatures might not be the best idea.
Had I been paying attention I might not have run face first into a transparent barrier of energy blocking the outer gate to the city. I hit it with enough force to set my ears ringing and numb my lips from the discharge of electricity. My tongue, numbed by the abrupt electric shock, slurred my words drunkenly as I used a creative mix of profanity to demonstrate my displeasure.
"By the Gods I pray you are a spy," Ul'tak chuckled to himself as he waved to the guardhouse atop the wall, "Would that our enemies send such obvious infiltrators."
"I... but, wha?" Articulacy escaped me as the barrier shimmered out of existence then snapped back into place as we past. Stars and stones, the magical forces required to create a permanent barrier of that size had to be monumental. It would require concentrated geomancy and a level of skill that I'd only ever heard of as rumor before, "How on Earth?"
Clearly pleased at my reaction, Ul'tak slapped me across the shoulders, "The magics of the gods are not for us to understand, only to obey."
His claims of serving a god were starting to worry me. There were powerful beings on Earth, creatures who'd forged their magic through rites and rituals too terrible for moral man to comprehend. The gate to the White Council citadel in Edinburgh might have been just as strong as the gate to Nekheb but the gate had a physical form to it. Covered with runes and protective symbols to channel power the citadel's magics were a collective work of the bygone wizard-craft. The gate of Nekheb was power, pure and simple. No runes, no wards, no props, just a pure projection of power.
It was freaking scary.
I didn't know much about the Egyptian deities, other than that they were particularly nasty and fond of necromancy on a level that defied belief. If one of the ancient gods of the middle east really was in the city I wouldn't be able to take him one on one in a fight, not so close to his place of power. It would be like fighting Mab or Titania in the Nevernever.
It was madness to attack an old god close to his seat of power, it granted creatures of magic insight and abilities to dwarf my own at the best of times. If Heka wasn't friendly to your friendly neighborhood wizard bad things were on the horizon.
We would just have to hope the god was friendly.
Yeah, sure. Keep dreaming Harry.
Greeting my companion with a salute and a declaration of "first prime" a dozen Jaffa fell into step around Ul'Tak, oblong maces at the ready and faces devoid of emotion. The whole situation felt a bit 'sig heil' for my taste.
They marched me down the streets of the great city in a protective phalanx, as much to trap me in as keep dangers out. It was just as well to have them, or I might have gotten lost in the sea of humanity. In contrast to the great desert outside, Nekheb was a thriving metropolis.
As far as the eye could see there were people everywhere, real human people. A good head shorter than the Jaffa and clad in the sort of practical white linens one would expect from the Bedouin. Countless stalls sold savory meats and spiced vegetables that wafted their alluring smells across the city, mingling with the bitter but oh-so-glorious scent of coffee from behind the canvas sun screens of a the numerous cafés. Two blocks of delicious smells and enough was enough, "I need to eat something."
Ul'tak shoved me forwards, pushing hard into the middle of my back. "After you have spoken to Heka."
I dug my heels in and turned to face the man's stoic visage, taking care to have my own most wizardly glare, "No. I need to eat now. I'm no good to you hungry. It's in your best interest for me to eat."
The Jaffa tilted his head in confusion, "Explain."
"Look, if I actually am a spy you need me to be strong enough to withstand questioning. You can't get much out of me if I'm dead," the Jaffa laughed in amusement and I tried not to think too hard about the Egyptian death magic. They very well might have been able to get something out of me even after I'd died. I'd just have to make sure my death curse made that impossible.
I continued as though I hadn't noticed their laughter, "And if I'm not a spy it would be a violation of the rules of hospitality not to feed a weary traveler. If I am to defend myself I need the energy."
The laws of hospitality are a big deal to the supernatural community, even the biggest and baddest of them wouldn't consider violating them. Especially not the biggest and the baddest of them. So much of their power is tied up in rules that a violation of them would be dangerous, potentially fatally so.
A young Jaffa to Ul'tak's left chimed in, "Master Ul'tak let me teach this Tau'ri his place." He cracked his knuckles soundly to leave no doubt what he meant by it.
"No, no Bashir," Ul'tak shook his head and gestured with a finger to a street vendor. The astonished woman scurried over with her cart, bowing her head to avoid eye contact with the Jaffa, "Defeating a weak enemy proves nothing."
He pushed a thick coin into the woman's hands and pointed to me, "Feed him."
I took the pocket of meat and vegetables shoved into an unleavened bread from the woman with the most sincere "thank you" I could remember having given anyone, and bit into it with relish, enjoying the taste of spiced meat and yogurt sauce, "Move over Burger King, we have a new contender for the crown."
The Jaffa looked at me in stoic incomprehension. My wit is wasted on the supernatural community.
I devoured two of them, licking the wax paper they were served on to make sure none of the food was wasted, then drank a full flagon of water before nodding to Ul'tak, "I'm ready for anything. Thank you."
"You will earn that meal Dre'su'den." Ul'tak growled, "The hospitality of Heka is not without its price."
Slaked of hunger and thirst I followed my guide in apprehension as we marched through the city, wandering through avenues and paths that just hinted at many thousands of years of culture and development. Seemingly ancient hieroglyphs covered ziggurats stood atop multicolored frescoes of the Egyptian deities doing all sorts of godly things that couldn't have been more than a decade old.
It would have been beautiful if I hadn't been so god damned terrified. No longer hungry and starving my brain caught up to me enough to remind me why the name Heka sounded so freaking familiar. Heka was the Egyptian god of Magic, the king muckity-muck of all ritual magic.
And I had trespassed on his land. Stars and stones, just once I'd like for things to be easy.
"Not good Harry," Bob whispered to me as we walked past a row of spike mounted heads displayed as a warning to any would be heretics, "This is not good. The Egyptian pantheon was really not nice... Kemmler was fascinated with them... obsessed even... and you know nothing good ever came from something he liked."
"Shut up," I whispered back to the skull, "They'll hear you." I didn't need Bob reminding me of exactly how totally screwed I was. I knew that well enough on my own. And something told me that these people weren't going to react well to a disembodied head carrying a servitor spirit. Call it a hunch but I wasn't going to risk it.
I had to squint my eyes as we walked into the largest pyramid, the reflection of torchlight on the polished gold made it impossible to see through the blinding brightness. Stars blinked in my eyes as we walked the length of the corridor, passing servants and slaves dressed in altogether too little for my own sense of modesty.
"Donald Trump eat your heart out," I chuckled to myself as we passed a particularly nubile woman covered in piercings in places best left unmentioned as she sanctified a three story high statute of the god Heka.
Alluring chamber maidens dressed in even less than nothing kneeled on either side of the door, their shaved heads tattooed with a thick mess of hieroglyphics that implied sorceries of the darkest sort. The women pulled apart a set of thick purple velvet curtains, allowing Ul'tak to pass into the inner chamber.
The Sanctum Sanctorum of Heka, god of Magic.
Stars and stones it was gaudy.
At the far side of a wide chamber a man of Middle Eastern heritage lounged upon a throne that appeared to have been cut from a giant hunk of ruby. He sat in indolence, idly watching as two humans attacked each other with swords within circle ten yards wide surrounded by a barrier glowing with the same energy as the city gate. Even at a distance it made my skin pulse with the energy of ambient magic.
I gasped in horror as one of the men in the circle made a clumsy lunge with his blade, overbalancing and exposing himself to his opponent. The fatal blow echoed around the room with a fleshy thump of metal on bone. The winner severed his opponents head and held it up in triumph to the charnel cheers of the watching Jaffa. The sound echoed with their joyous blood lust.
The human servants continued with their everyday chores in the place, paying the lethal violence no attention at all. Years of such violent displays doubtlessly left them anesthetized to their appeal. In a way their silent acceptance disturbed me far more than the blood lust of the Jaffa ever could.
I could understand anger, lust, fear, death and hunger. But apathy? Total apathy? It terrified me.
I don't know what possessed me to open up my wizard's sight, curiosity or madness. I looked out at the crowd of cheering men and their god, only to see the glowing hateful eyes of serpents staring back at me in boundless lust. They protruded from the bellies of men, wrapping round their bodies like fleshy, barbed manacles.
Heka wore a noose of serpent that curled up over the head of him like a crown, preening regally whilst he screamed in eternal horror. A river of blood flowed from Heka's robes, soaking the ground as far as the eye could see with sorrowfully sticky red blood. A million arms reached out of the river, clawing at the hem of his robes in impotent fury. They bellowed their ghostly challenges calling him murderer and demon, but they couldn't even muss the hem of his garment.
I didn't vomit, but it was a close call as I closed all three of my eyes in horror. Heka was evil, plain and simple evil.
Evil and powerful, it was a dangerous combination.
Heka, amused by the gristly spectacle clapped his hands twice and dissolved the barrier. Speaking an a voice that rumbled with inhuman power he strode forward and accepted the severed head from his kneeling supplicant, "See how my faithful obey me. He has slain the unworthy and bolstered me with his power. I am Heka, and I am merciful."
He reached down and cradled the man's head, examining the deep cuts and bruises. He waved to a golden armored jaffa, "Take him to the Sarcophagus and see to his wounds. He has done well."
The man stumbled to his feet with the Jaffa's assistance, struggling to walk on a severed hamstring. His god watched him leave in mild paternal amusement, observing him like a favored pet, "Very well indeed."
He pointed a finger at the dismembered corpse and three bolts of lightning shot out from a device on his wrist, dissolving the corpse into vapor. No ash, no char, just two chirping bursts of lightning and the body vanished into thin air.
Ul'tak grabbed me by the nape of my neck and shoved me face first to the ground as his god crossed the circle. Unprepared for the rough treatment I squawked in protest as my face hit the stone, earning me a punch to the kidney for my troubles and knocking the wind out of me.
On bended knee he put his balled fist over his heart in salute, bowing his head in reverence, "My Lord Heka. I discovered this trespasser in the badlands at the edge of the Teeth of Sokkar."
"How interesting," The Egyptian deity examined me with predatory eyes covered in thick black makeup, pulling at a long braided beard on his chin. The thick jewelry on his right hand clacked and clattered against a palm sized ruby in his fist. The gem glowed with ambient power, hinting at the sorcerous might it concealed. I swallowed nervously wondering what other magics were up his sleeve, "No matter, it will provide what it knows before it dies."
"He claims not to be a spy," Ul'tak continued, "And I believe him."
"You are too credulous my first prime," Heka tutted malevolently, "However we can discover the truth of it. There are ways of making even the tightest of tongues loosen."
"I'm not a spy," I tried to lift my head, only to get kicked in the side by a Jaffa. Spitting up a mouthful of blood I repeated myself, "My name is Harry Dresden. I'm from Chicago. I am not a spy. I'm here by accident."
Heka reached down and touched the silver pentacle dangling from my neck, hissing in disgust. "A symbol of Osiris of the Ba Duat. And you claim not to be a spy?" The god laughed, a cruel echoing menace, "Unlikely."
"Hold on a second," Oh crap. This was not good, "Who gives you the right to tell me who I am? "
"A god need not justify himself to a mortal ant," Heka's eyes glowed with fury, shimmering with preternatural energies, "Jaffa kill him."
"I request that he be given Tek'pa'kor to prove his honor," Ul'tak bowed his head deferentially and put himself between Heka and myself, "Let him die with honor if he is to die."
"A right of combat? For a spy? " Heka laughed uproariously in his cruel cackle, "And does the Tau'ri consent to a trial by combat, knowing the price of failure. The fight is to the death."
"You aren't exactly giving me a whole heck of a lot of options," I gritted my teeth and looked up at the Heka in defiance, "I'm not going quietly. And if possible I'm not going at all." I wouldn't be able to fight my way out past a thousand soldiers, but I might be able to take a singe Jaffa in combat. Better to rely upon the protection of old world hospitality.
God bless the predictability of ancient supernatural beasties.
"Arrogance, defiance, pride," The god waved vaguely to the raised stone circle, "Rob him of these Ul'tak. I wish for this to end. I would have another Jaffa do the deed though. Ge'mok is in need of the training."
"As you wish my Lord," Ul'tak stood, lifting me to my feet one handed. Considering that I'm about seven feet tall and just shy of two hundred pounds that's no small feat.
Hundreds of tattooed faces watched us walk to the circle, eying me with mild amusement. I caught distant whispers of amusement from the Jaffa, none of them seemed to think I had a chance. Well to hell with them. It was time to show them what a Wizard of the White Council, a Warden no less, could do when backed into a corner.
"You may use any weapons you have on you Tau'ri. Once you step into the ring the barriers will rise and you will fight till one of you no longer lives," Ul'tak whispered into my ear as we went, doing his best to inform me of the rules in the seconds before the battle, "Ge'mok is not without a heart, he will allow you to wound him before he goes for the kill so that you may be buried with honor."
"And if I kill him first?" I cracked my knuckles and stretched my arms over my head, trying desperately not to notice the seven foot tall wall of pure muscle selecting weapons off the opposite wall. The man's biceps were the size of my entire torso, "What happens then?"
"It will be a shame for such foolish bravery to be extinguished," Ul'tak sighed disappointedly and quirked his brow in bemusement, "To the victor goes the prize, your life."
I pulled the glove from my mangled hand, balling the desiccated appendage into a fist, "I'll just have to make sure not to lose then."
Ul'tak incredulously watched the crippled human stride onto the stage like a conquering hero. I had to look absolutely absurd, haggard and still covered the detritus of the Darkhallow; more vagrant than fighter.
Well it's what you do that counted, not how you looked. And I had more than my share of doing left in me, "Bob, any suggestions?"
"Hit him till he doesn't move any more?" Bob's eye narrowed, focusing on the Jaffa, "Duels aren't exactly my specialty boss."
"Christ Bob," I snorted, "I could have figured that out on my own. What am I paying you for?"
"Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer," Bob hissed in reply, "I don't have the answer to every question, just the ones that matter."
"I kind of feel like this one counts," I snarled in annoyance as I watched Heka recline into his ruby seat.
The godling surveyed us from behind the barrier, reclining in his throne as he smiled and bellowed, "You who are about to die, we salute you."
The giant stepped into the ring, stamping the heel of his staff on the ground twice and bowing in salute to me as the blue energies of the barrier snapped into place. I cracked my staff in reply, tilting my heady sightly by way of reply before falling into a defensive posture.
Not that it did me any good.
With a speed entirely unfair for his size the massive man crossed the two yards between us, driving his staff into my midriff like a spear. I rolled with the impact, spinning around and cracking him across the back of the head with my own staff. The Jaffa roared in fury, jabbing backwards with the flaring silver cobra head on the bottom and catching me at my ankle in it's crook.
I had the time to yelp a surprised, "woah," before he'd flipped me onto my back and stomped a booted foot into my sternum with a kick that cracked bone audibly. My eyes bulged with pain and shock as he leaned into my fractured ribs, grinding his food backwards and forwards as he rose his staff for the killing blow, "I take no pleasure in this Tau'ri. May you find peace in the afterlife."
No more mister nice wizard. I raised my hand and tapped into the energies in my rings, splaying my fingers and shoving them upwards into Ge'mok's chest. His pity turned to astonishment as a shockwave of magical force flung him into the air, tossing him to collide with the hard stone a yard back.
I give the guy credit, he recovered from the shock of facing a wizard fast.
He rolled with the impact, tucking his body into a ball and twisting into a panful kneel before righting himself and advancing on me. He whirled his staff around his body in a complex motion that was nearly a dance, the glittering silvery metal flashing with reflections of the torchlight.
Then, without warning the end of his mace opened up like a blooming flower and a basketball sized burst of light rocketed out towards me with a thunderous squelch of energy. I raised my shield winched as the blinding force of it collided with the barrier, exploding into a thunderous burst of sound.
I ducked to avoid another two bursts of energy from the staff before screaming, "Vintas servitas."
My attacker fumbled with his weapon as an gust of sorcerous wind tried to tear it from his fingers, shouting in frustration. It gave me enough time to focus my mind and prepare what came next.
My battle magics weren't as powerful as they once had been. I hadn't used fire magic since losing my hand, even simple evocations of candle flame had been too much for me to manage. But fire wasn't the only elemental magic at my disposal.
My mentor, Ebeneezer McCoy, had insisted that I learn at least one application of earth magic. It would more or less tap me out on earth magic for the next week but given my adrenaline and my need it would have to do. I reached out to the energies around me, tapping into the ambient power bled off by the barrier trapping us inside the circle.
As Ge'mok righted his grasp on his staff I smashed the bottom of my staff into the ground, its runes glowing red hot and smoldering sulfurously as I tapped into the power of hellfire. The stone floor split in two, widening into a cavernous maw of empty earth into which the terrified Jaffa plummeted. I swung my gnarled paw in a cutting motion across my chest and pulled apart the magics keeping the earth split.
The Jaffa screamed in incomprehensible pain as the walls of the stone pit collided in a horrible wet twisting of pulverized flesh. Utter and complete silence filled the room as the blue barrier dropped, leaving me to face Heka as what remained of his servant bubbled up through cracks in the stone circle. Wet charnel syrup pooled into a puddle at the center of the circle.
I expected Heka to be angry, annoyed, possibly even furious. But when he looked into my eyes, all I saw was hunger. I pulled away as I felt the first tugs of a soul gaze, the last thing I wanted to know was what lay behind those terrible glowing eyes.
"I trust that satisfies your test," I growled in anger. I hadn't wanted to kill Ge'mok, shouldn't have needed to kill him. Something about being forced to kill a man for some lesser god's amusement was pissing me right the hell off, "Now let me go."
"I think not," The god smiled eagerly, "I couldn't possibly part with such a promising specimen. No, I have plans for you."
"Like hell!" I growled, "You promised me my freedom."
"I promised you honor," Heka grinned predatory, "There is no greater honor than being the host to your god. Jaffa kree."
I heard a chirruping sound that reminded me of crickets echoing from behind me, and then everything faded to black. Just not my day all around, today was just awful. And tomorrow wasn't fixing to be any better.
Stars and stones I needed a vacation.
--
A/N - Typed on my iPhone so I expect there is some obvious error I missed. Just point it out via PM so I can fix it. Cheers and thanks for reading
........... Welp. Heka? Meet Lash. Lash? Heka.
Dresden's head starting to look like an apartment for the depraved and incurably criminally insane.
Or otherwise he gets rescued by SG1....... I can't see how that interaction would work when they take him back home though. SG civilian disclosure policy isn't really my thing.
Dresden's head starting to look like an apartment for the depraved and incurably criminally insane.
Or otherwise he gets rescued by SG1....... I can't see how that interaction would work when they take him back home though. SG civilian disclosure policy isn't really my thing.
TheLastOne
Person of impeccable tastes (for destruction)
There were hints in right after the fight in White Night she wasn't completely gone, then more hints in Small Favors, Turn Coat, and even more in Ghost Story. She seems to be rebuilding herself, though we don't know how much she will have lost by the time she does.Grace said:
Todeswind
Begrudgingly thread marking.
- Location
- Ry'leth
Jaffa aren't human.StormBlade said:
Shippou
Kitsune Trickster
Depends on your point of view really, Jaffa are just humans whose ancestors have been genetically modified to be stronger and able to carry Goa'uld lavae. Also I thought the likes of Gods and Fae Queens didn't have souls wouldn't the near soul gaze have tipped Harry off that there was something more to Heka than met the eyeTodeswind said:
Dresden doesn't know it. And they still have souls (as they have free will as demonstrated by Teal'c and other free Jaffa). He broke the law.Todeswind said:
Todeswind
Begrudgingly thread marking.
- Location
- Ry'leth
It's pretty much kosher to kill anything that isn't a bog standard human; vampire half-breeds, werewolves, Denarians, and so on. He didn't exactly take flak for killing the FBI agents who'd become hexenwolves or any of the order of the blackened Denarius.Yog said:
Anyhow as far as Harry knows the Jaffa tried to kill him with sorcery. Someone tries to kill you with magic, you get to kill their ass right on back.
Todeswind
Begrudgingly thread marking.
- Location
- Ry'leth
Yeah, if you kill a human. Which he didn't.majorbau said:
Anyhow he killed Deborah Benn with Magic in Fool Moon and nobody brought it up. It's not like there isn't precedent.
Actually, as "magic destroys tech" is dependent on the opinion of humanity in general, and where he is, people believe that tech=magic, it likely will work just fine, if not better than before.sdarian said:
The thing is, Goa'uld don't get in your head. They attach to the spinal cord and physically stimulates the nerves. It's puppetry, not mind-control.
Cyborgs probably wouldn't count, either, after a point.
Council rules for dealing with abhumans, transhumans, and non-humans basically translate to "burn the Xenos". They tolerate the existence of transhumans because killing them is too much trouble, and some groups of them have way too much power. They don't care if the Wamps have souls or not. They'd set them all on fire if they could, or repeat Harry's bloodline curse stunt. The only thing that stops them is the fact that the Wamps can fight back.
The rule seems to be pure and unaltered homo sapiens sapiens. Servitors don't count, and they're basically just humans with some magical-biotech implants. Neither do Wamps, or half-Ramps, or Changelings or Scions. Renfields don't count either, and they're 100% pure human suffering from severe mental restructuring. Nor do Bigfoots, and they're a homo-sapiens subspecies.Waruiko said:
Cyborgs probably wouldn't count, either, after a point.
Council rules for dealing with abhumans, transhumans, and non-humans basically translate to "burn the Xenos". They tolerate the existence of transhumans because killing them is too much trouble, and some groups of them have way too much power. They don't care if the Wamps have souls or not. They'd set them all on fire if they could, or repeat Harry's bloodline curse stunt. The only thing that stops them is the fact that the Wamps can fight back.
It's not an issue of belief, but of power source. The magic that a wizard uses is created by human life. Therefore, using it to kill a human is like sticking a screwdriver in a power outlet. Bad things happen.Carandol said:
Incidentally, using necromancy to kill doesn't have this problem because it uses death as a power source instead of life. Unfortunately, using necromancy has other problems, because it uses death as a power source instead of life.
Prince Charon
Just zis guy, you know?
It's an interesting concept, that I'd like to see more of.
Even though Goa'uld possession appears to be far more puppetry than mind control, that doesn't factor in magic, which does tend to fuck with things in ways that non-magic users really could not expect.
Even though Goa'uld possession appears to be far more puppetry than mind control, that doesn't factor in magic, which does tend to fuck with things in ways that non-magic users really could not expect.
- Location
- Mirrodin Mk.2
even if Lash, Dresden, and Dresden's unconscious cant browbeat the Goa'uld into submission they still have Bob that could double possess him to help out.....or is that triple possess. or cut out the middle man and just possess the Goa'uld.Prince Charon said:
who else could we cram into Dresden condominiums
S J C
GDI Commander
- Location
- Scotland, Undisclosed GDI Command Center
Ancient Data base?windlich said:
- Location
- Mirrodin Mk.2
why not.S J C said:
hell why where at it grab Thor or another asgard there into mind uploading.
Anubis, possibly Ra (movie version was doing possessions), electronics hating incorporeal aliens from that one episode... there are many things like that in SG verse.S J C said:
The Curious Fan
Perpetually sleep deprived
He hasn't gotten over the mental block against using fire magic, he didn't do that until he was recovering from his injuries (speaking of which, how can he walk on his leg in this story for so long, it got a wound that required 12 stitches put in it not two days ago) after the fight was over.Agayek said:
Please recall that there was a period when Harry couldn't use fire magic due to injuries; how much of this was psychological is unclear. The last snippet specified that this took place after the injury in question and before he recovered his fire magic. He didn't have that option. IIRC, someone took a shot at him with a flame thrower. His shield blocked the fuel, but not the heat because it only blocks kinetic energy... oops.
ETA: Also, he didn't have the option to restrain his opponent. The Goa'uld specified that the combat was to the death, and would have enforced that one way or another.
ETA: Also, he didn't have the option to restrain his opponent. The Goa'uld specified that the combat was to the death, and would have enforced that one way or another.
Todeswind
Begrudgingly thread marking.
- Location
- Ry'leth
Dresden was stealing energy from the shield to power the spell. It's actually one of his established powers that he's had since his Apprenticeship, he used it in "Changes" to hide his bag of contraband in the Nevernever. Barring an environment over saturated with ambient energy ( Nevernever / stealing the extra energy within the shield ) he wouldn't have been able to manage it.Agayek said:
My plot depends upon him doing something flashy enough that he is recognized as an "advanced human host". Air magic could be mistaken for the effects a zartak zatnikatel weaponry or a concealed hand device, which leaves us with fire (which canonically Harry was unable to use at this time) or earth. So it was the power that made the most sense based upon what he could have used with what he had.
TheLastOne
Person of impeccable tastes (for destruction)
In White Night Harry suddenly gains musical skill right after Lash's 'death,' just like she helped him do before.Grace said:
In Small Favors, Harry's hand moves without his will, after he had lost control of it by using Soulfire, and it move with coordination as if it hadn't been burnt. Lash had done the same thing before.
In Turn Coat, Harry is suffering from horrible headaches, and Buttters thinks it's something going on with his brain.
In Changes, as Harry dies he hears a women's voice tell the death curse to shut up.
In Ghost Story, Demonreach talks about a parasite helping to keep Dresden's body alive, context suggests it's Lash.