The Undergod (The Godsfall Trilogy Book 3) by Michael Meyerhofer

Author:Michael Meyerhofer [Meyerhofer, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, epic fantasy, high fantasy, Dragons, Magic
Publisher: Red Adept Publishing, LLC
Published: 2018-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Saanji stared in disbelieving horror at the Inquisition host roiling in the distance. Made up almost entirely of former Lancers, they were bolstered by squads of crossbowmen that Saanji guessed were either sellswords or former squires. What looked like priests moved among them, swinging braziers of incense back and forth. As grim as their numbers were, though, worse still were the prayers the men uttered in chilling unison. Saanji caught only a few words but enough to recognize the chanting as a plea for the gods and the Light to eradicate all sin from the world—preferably through the use of fire and blood.

Worst of all, though, was the mule cart rolling just ahead of the army. The cart held a thick wooden pole to which a naked man had been nailed, his hands above his sagging head. The banner of the Inquisition hung from his chest, secured by a knife that had been pushed into his flesh.

“Gods, is he even still alive?” Keswen asked.

“Yes,” Zeia said. Her voice trembled.

“Are you... talking to him?” Saanji asked.

“He’s weak, but we’re close enough for telepathy.” Zeia pointed. “He’s... been soaked in oil. See that priest standing next to him?”

A robed man stood next to Maddoc, stoically holding a flickering torch.

“Keswen, can you kill the priest before he drops that?”

She touched her bow. “No. I can put an arrow in Maddoc to put him out of his misery, though, if it comes to it.” She paused. “Better that than letting him burn to death.”

“No,” Saanji said. Not yet. He glanced behind him and saw Jalist nearby, axe in hand, his face ashen. Saanji marveled that the Dwarr had not yet charged forward, all on his own. Gods, what would I do if that was Zeia nailed up there?

As though reading his thoughts, Zeia ignited a flaming hand and squeezed his. “Look at the Queshi.”

Saanji turned his head and saw a massive horde of horsemen to the east, positioned away from the other hosts so that the armies were like the equidistant points on a triangle. The Queshi studied Cadwallis’s army as well as the ghastly spectacle they’d made of Maddoc. Though Saanji saw some of them shake their heads, he could not tell for certain if they disapproved with enough fervor to join Rowen instead.

Gods, Locke, where are you?

A man with long golden hair and resplendent armor rode up through the center of the Inquisition’s host. At Cadwallis’s approach, the Inquisition soldiers stopped praying and broke into a resounding cheer. Cadwallis responded by drawing his sword and waving it in the air. His white horse reared up, hooves flailing dramatically.

Saanji glanced over his shoulder again, momentarily catching the eye of Sir Hale in the distance. Saanji guessed that he and the Lancer were thinking the same thing. If Jalist was too paralyzed to order an attack, one of them would have to do it.

Besides, Maddoc is a dead man, anyway.

As though in answer, Maddoc’s limbs jerked as if he were trying to free himself.

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