Warlock of Ashmedai: The City of God [Progression fantasy/LitRPG]

Book 2: chapter 25


"ARE YOU PROUD OF ME, FATHER?"

Geezer's hesitatingly uttered words thundered past Oak's confusion like a raging bull smashing through a perimeter fence and hurried him to action. He snatched the hellhound into a crushing hug and held onto the young dog for dear life.

"Always, Geezer. Always," Oak croaked. Father. He called me father. Something misty and wet covered his vision. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes like warm summer rain. The damp earth under his knees was rocky and uncomfortable, but the only emotion he could feel was relief.

A gust of wind from the lake ruffled Oak's hair. As he wiped his tears on Geezer's coarse black fur, he realized he had been afraid. From the moment Geezer had spoken, he had feared in his heart of hearts that the hellhound would view their bond differently in light of his vastly grown intelligence. Of course, he had been correct, and an utter fool.

Father. He called me father. Oak kissed Geezer between the eyes and laughed. "I love you, buddy. To the ends of Creation and back."

"LOVE. YOU." Geezer bowled Oak over and licked his face, tail wagging with such gusto it was a miracle it stayed attached. "LOVE. YOU."

***

Naturally, Oak had to inform his traveling companions of the morning's staggering developments. He rushed to the inn with Geezer in tow and dragged Ur-Namma and Sadia back to the same hill outside of Kesh, where Geezer had uttered his first words.

By the time the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon, Oak, Geezer, Ur-Namma and Sadia stood on the hilltop, welcoming a new dawn. A red sun climbed over the hills in the east, peeking through the gaps in the clouds like a nosy old maid.

"So, here we are, Oak." Sadia yawned. "Care to tell us why I had to wake up at the crack of dawn?"

"GREETINGS."

"Aaargh!"

"Well, this is a surprise."

While Ur-Namma accepted the emergence of Geezer's new cognitive abilities without a strong display of emotion, the same could not be said about Sadia. When Geezer opened his mouth and spoke with the voice of a choir of screaming men, Sadia fell backwards, shrieking like a banshee, and rolled down the rocky hillside.

Luckily, the little spellsinger only wounded her pride. Geezer didn't make the best first impression, but not the worst either. A decent attempt from someone new to the concept of having a conversation.

Strangely, after a rocky start, hearing Geezer talk removed most of Sadia's fear towards the hellhound. During the next few days they spent at the town of Kesh, Geezer's and Sadia's relationship flourished to heights Oak couldn't have expected, even in his wildest dreams. Since the hound could now speak and be reasoned with, any comparison to the packs of wild dogs prowling the slums of Hafa where Sadia grew up seemed silly, even to the little spellsinger.

The pair quickly became inseparable and Oak gladly let Geezer play guardian for the girl while she explored the town in her free time. It was easy for him to forget that Sadia was still a kid, but those few days of gallivanting around without a care in the world and socializing with people her own age brought more smiles out of her than any clumsy attempt at consolation by Oak's part.

Simple joy was an excellent salve for grief, and Sadia had earned a break.

***

There was no other way to say it. Halit had outdone himself.

Oak stared at the wagon and whistled. "Not too shabby. I feel better about our chances already." He, Geezer and Ur-Namma stood in the market square of Kesh in front of Halit's manor, looking over the promised fruits of their labours. Sadia was inside the manor, talking shop with Halit about whatever spellsingers talked about when left to their own devices.

About fifteen feet in length and four in width, the covered wooden wagon looked sturdy enough to carry them across the Hundred Kingdoms. Bows on top held up a waterproof canvas to keep their supplies dry and some kind soul had gone through the trouble of caulking the entire wagon body with tar.

That would come in handy if and when the caravan had to cross a river by floating the wagons.

Halit had not stopped there. Provisions, two water barrels, tents, sleeping pads, thick lengths of rope, a hatchet, pots and pans for boiling water and cooking, and a hundred other useful knick knacks that would assuredly save their lives on the road filled the wagon from top to bottom. Food for the journey took up the lion's share of the available space and they would still need to resupply many times on the way.

The Ensi of Kesh had even provided them with three oxen instead of the required two, so they would have a spare if one of the animals went lame or died. I'm going to pray for your good health tonight, Halit. Losing the only way to transport your supplies meant certain death in the wilds. If you could not move forward, you could not reach the next source of clean water, let alone the next city or town where you could resupply. Dying of thirst was a bad way to go and starvation wasn't any better.

"I am more than satisfied," Ur-Namma said. The old elf had examined every inch of the wagon from the wooden wheels to the canvas, and the smile on his wrinkled face told Oak everything he needed to know. Halit had more than fulfilled his end of the bargain. "I dare say we might be better prepared for the journey than most professional teamsters hauling people and cargo across the continent."

"Feels strange, you know?" Oak bit his lip and glanced at the light blue walls of Halit's elegant abode. "Before I met him, I was kind of expecting Halit to swindle us somehow. My luck is generally not this good."

"Have you considered that since you always lose when you play cards or dice, Creation might see fit to throw a lucky break your way once in a while when it comes to other matters?" Ur-Namma asked and shrugged. "Not to mention, Halit is smart. Swindling people is not a good long-term business strategy, and that man thinks in decades, not months or years."

"Fair enough."

Ur-Namma snatched a brush from the wagon and went to introduce himself to the trio of oxen which were tied to a stone post a few feet away from the wagon. With the help of slow movements and a few calming words, the ancient general stepped up to an ox and ran the brush along its flank in soothing motions. The cow shivered in pleasure and let out a low, rumbling moo.

There was no better way to earn an ox's trust than brushing its fur.

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Oak held Geezer back, for the time being. The beasts of burden would get used to the hellhound in the coming days, but he was willing to bet they would lose their collective shit if he let Geezer sniff their hindquarters.

Oxen were dumb, but not quite dumb enough to ignore a canine weighing about as much as a grown man eyeing them like they were tonight's dinner.

The sound of a door closing distracted Oak from his musings. Sadia walked down the steps of Halit's manor, whistling an upbeat tune and shielding her eyes from the harsh midday sun. Her meeting had clearly been fruitful. Considering Halit really wanted to know how she built the enchantments in her shield-bracelet, Oak had expected nothing less.

Sadia's grandmother had apparently been a bona-fide genius when it came to complicated thaumaturgy.

"How did it go?" Oak asked. It never hurts to let others tell you the good news, even if you could guess what they were going to say.

A genuine smile graced Sadia's narrow face. Oak was happy to note that even though the girl was still as thin as a reed, the narrowness of her face had nowadays more to do with bone structure than prolonged starvation.

"It went great! Halit is a gentleman," Sadia replied and flicked a strand of hair away from her eyes. "He was very generous." She bent down to give Geezer a scratch and let the hellhound lick her fingers.

"Come on, out with it. What did you get for your grandmother's shield-bracelet design?"

"Oh, I got an excellent deal." Sadia rubbed her hands together in glee. "Like he already promised, Halit showed me how to hide the magical signature of enchanted objects. Very useful, believe me, but nothing compared to the real prize."

"I'm all ears, girly."

"He helped me construct a tiny pocket dimension!" Sadia vibrated with excitement. If she was any happier, Oak feared the little spellsinger might combust on the spot. "I have always wanted one!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds like you got way more out of this trade than he did," Oak said. "Glad it worked out like this, but it leaves me wondering. Why didn't he ask for more?"

"Halit follows the Ophanim." Sadia shrugged. "The Choir doesn't like it when an experienced spellsinger fleeces a youngster."

"Huh."

Oak climbed onto the wagon and sat down on the driver's box. He beckoned Sadia to join him and the girl pulled herself up next to him, peering at the supplies piled inside. The seating felt comfortable, but Oak didn't let a positive first impression fool him. This blasted contraption is going to test the durability of our buttocks in the coming months. The driver is going to feel every single bump and pothole in the road.

There was a reason most people elected to walk by their wagons instead of riding in them. Even a flat paved road could make a wagon jostle around enough to make your spine want to escape the confines of your body.

"Not bad," Sadia said.

"Not bad at all, I agree."

"So?" Sadia asked and gave Oak a sharp look.

"What?"

"So, when are you going to tell me the truth? Why are we risking life and limb to reach Chadash Merkavah?"

"Well, you see…hmm." Oak looked away, trying to come up with something plausible. He didn't know what to tell the girl. Lie? Give her the honest truth? A mix of both?

"Oak, look at me. I am coming with you, no matter what. There is lot's of reasons for that, wanderlust included. I want to traverse through the Hundred Kingdoms. Witness the countless city-states, petty fiefdoms and the lawless wilderness in between. I want to step through the gates of the greatest city in Creation and see if Chadash Merkavah is all it's cracked up to be." Sadia grasped his hand tightly, willing Oak to listen to her. "You saved my life, twice over. Once, by rescuing me from the gallows. Twice, by sharing your food and water when I had none. By your will, I have embarked on the path of diabolism, Ophanim preserve me."

Sadia lifted a fist and pressed it over her heart. "We have fought side by side and I have shed the blood of your enemies."

"Fucking Hell, girl. Have to admit, you are making good points so far."

"Do you take me for a fool? I can read between the lines, you know? Ur-Namma ain't no normal elf, that much is certain. You are a Child of Strife, a follower of Ashmedai. I have seen you summon flames and you are no spellsinger. And Geezer's existence is a whole other mystery. Who on earth just happens to have a hellhound as a pet?" Sadia whispered furiously, staring into Oak's eyes without blinking. "Something drives you all to Chadash Merkavah in a hurry, and I want to help."

Oak stared at Sadia, thoughts bouncing inside his skull like a pack of rabbits. He weighed the pros and cons of telling her the truth. Was it worth the risk? Maybe it was. How could you cultivate true allies or forge bonds of friendship if you didn't have the courage to share what you were up against?

"You are right, Sadia." He hopped down from the driver's box. This was not a discussion they could have in a literal public square. "Trust is a two-way street. I guess it's time I gave you some answers."

***

For the third time in as many days, Oak stood on the hilltop where Geezer had first addressed him with words. Sadia sat next to him on a protruding rock and Geezer laid at the girl's feet, on his back.

The hellhound was a glutton for belly rubs.

Oak told Sadia everything. The sacking of Spoke. The ritual that brought him and Geezer to Ma'aseh Merkavah. Ashmedai's bargain and the grand quest to save the continent from Yam-Nahar's folly. Their long and difficult journey across the City of God to free Ur-Namma from the pillar of stone. He told of traversing the ancient sewers and the horror's that lurked under the city and inside the Imperial Library.

Sadia listened with wide eyes and without interruption, too caught in his tale to field any questions.

Words spilled from his lips like water down a raging river. There was no stopping the flow, until it was time to talk about the Butcher. Of the madness hiding deep within his mind. Shame filled Oak to the brim. He should have warned her days ago, and he had said nothing. Staying silent had been the easy choice, and he had taken it with little consideration.

I'm such a fucking coward.

He tried, but he couldn't get the words out. Couldn't face the fear that would undoubtedly bloom on Sadia's face. She would never look at him the same way again. Oak told himself there was such a thing as too many revelations at once. Better leave the Butcher for a later date.

It was a poor lie, and Oak knew it. Still, he soldiered on with his tale and tried to forget his own treachery.

Aoibheann's secret vault. The Sacrament of Ingurgitation. A ritual of transference. Their only hope of bridging the gap between themselves and a dragon feasting on the flesh of God. A faint hope at that.

With sorrow in his heart, Oak told her of the Choirs' indifference. How the carrion feeders sought to cleanse the continent of life to protect the current balance of power between the Heavens and the Hells. That got a vehement reaction out of the girl. Sadia's face grew ashen with grief and disappointment.

It must be harder for her to hear this than it was for me. She has followed the Ophanim all her life.

"If–if what you are telling me is true, my entire worldview lies in the gutter." Sadia buried her face in her hands. "How could they? They shame the Mother's memory by justifying their means with their ends."

"I am sorry, Sadia. I really am."

Voice hoarse from talking, Oak shared the details of their escape from the City of God and laid bare the might of their enemies. The Hundred Traitors; elves bound to Yam-Nahar's will. Kurigalzu of the Whispering Sands. A giant and a Warlock of Molek. And last but definitely not least, Yam-Nahar. The Dragon Who Feasts on the Flesh of God, sleeping under the Great Ziggurat of Ma'aseh Merkavah. He talked until day turned into evening and didn't stop until light waned from the sky.

"Shit," Sadia said. The spellsinger shook her head, staring at the first stars lighting up the void. "We are doomed, aren't we?"

"Yeah. Up to our eyeballs in excrement."

Geezer sprang to his feet, snout pointed at the road leading down from the southern hills. Oak turned around, following the hound's gaze.

Wagons. Oak could see wagons rolling down the road. A caravan had come at last.

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