Lord Zee
Cyclone
Streams of ichor and flakes of rust drifted over the ocean's surface as Narzhak stepped into the water from the sheer cliffside, raising waves that crashed against the sides of the peaks behind him. While the image he had of the course to hold was vague at best, this first step was clearly inevitable, faintly disagreeable as he had come to find wading through the expanse of saltwater. The layers of corrosion that spread over his skin after a while of trudging across the ocean floor irked him, and he could almost feel himself grow brittle. Drawing fresh iron from beneath his feet gave only a momentary respite from the nuisance.
It was all the worse this time, now that he lacked even the broadest notion of a tangible goal. He had little faith remaining in the risen lands offering anything worthwhile, which left finding Ashalla as the most promising plan; and, vast as he recalled her being, she was still only one being. After pacing around the best part of Galbar, he had not come over anything resembling her, or for that matter any other god, even once. The world was certainly greater than he had expected, and right then he was far from certain this was for the best. More room to cover, more work to do.
Then a stern voice like rolling waves spoke to Narzhak, originating from the ocean all around him. “You are leaking in my ocean.”
The god raised an arm and looked at it. The water flowing from it was thick with dark blood. “It's not any better than that finger, is it?” He remembered the one time he had heard that voice before, and the words he had given it in turn. “I can't do much about it, but it might help if you draw some of it yourself. It's an entirely different feeling from just being bled on.”
The ocean around Narzhak huffed as a mountain of water rose in front of the mountain of iron and flesh. It drew up to be level with Narzhak, and Ashalla formed a face to speak to Narzhak with. “It won’t make it taste any better,” she said in a voice like a waterfall. “This is not the first time your trail has polluted my waters. Katharsos was able to cleanse the soul ash he was dropping into the ocean near here, so are you sure you cannot do anything about your mess?”
The four fiery eyes narrowed in thought. Provoking the goddess of the ocean would have been certain to deliver a satisfying struggle, but he was not there for that alone. Talks called for concessions, and this was a small one. “I can’t stop it at a whim, but there might be something we can do if you’ll indulge me for a moment.” The edges of his iron plates stretched and widened, sliding to cover the gaps in his armour. Although streaks of black fluid still filtered between their loose rims, the bulk of the flow was staunched. “Do you have anything with a healthy taste for blood on hand?”
There was a brief rumble from all around Narzhak. “I can provide something.” From every direction around Narzhak came sharks, called by Ashalla and drawn to the Iron God’s blood. Made ravenous by the scent of blood, they began to drink the little streams of dark ichor, and would have likely attempted to consume Narzhak’s outer flesh if he had not covered it with armour. “Are these adequate?”
“They will do.” The god nodded with a heavy grinding sound. He glanced at one of the sharks, whose hide seemed to have slightly hardened where the clouds of ichor had brushed against it, but an oddity in what Ashalla had said soon distracted him from it. “You said Katharsos cleared his ash away from here? I haven't kept a close eye on him, but I found his waste scattered everywhere,” his hand swept broadly through air and water, “and though my senses aren't as keen as yours, I doubt it can bother anyone who's not already smelling for it.”
“It was not so much the soul ash, but the impurities in the ash, which was the problem,” Ashalla explained, “North-east of here is where Katharsos’ Sphere deposits the most soul ash, beneath his ethereal Vortex. The burning that happens up in the stars to recycle souls into ash leaves a bitter deathly taint in the ash. We created a reef with oysters which purify the soul ash and convert the impurities into an insoluble form.”
“Bitterly tainted oysters,” Narzhak mused, scraping the point where the pearl had sank into his mask, “This would explain why that one tasted so offensive. A constant rain of it would’ve killed my appetite for the rest of this world’s life.” If Ashalla had endured that, he had to admit her grievance with blood in the water was that much more understandable than he had given it credit for. “I’ll do what I can to keep more filth away from the seas. There are other hungers, though, that ash can't dampen as easily.” Which was, perhaps, unfortunate. He stretched his arms and restlessly flicked his clawed fingers. “Have you ever felt that there’s too much strength in you to contain, and nothing to release it on? That a need to move, grasp and break is tearing you from within and you can’t be rid of it?”
Ashalla gave Narzhak a curious look and a thoughtful rumble. “Yes, I have, in my own way. I know the desire to unleash my power upon the world, to use my strength rather than keep it hidden. I sate it by creating.”
“Creation is one way,” the Iron God assented, his right hand still rhythmically contracting into a fist before loosening again, “The greatest one. Still, not the only one. Look at us.” The fist rose over the waves, bladed edges jutting out from it. “We can split continents with one hand. If we wanted, we could tear the sky down into the ocean. We’ve been given a power to destroy besides creating, and we have no target to release it on. I feel it being wasted every moment, but there’s not a thing in the world that’d warrant using the least part of it.” His fiery eyes gazed pensively into Ashalla’s features. “Unless we turned it against itself.”
Ashalla rumbled again. “What are you suggesting?”
“We lock it in a prison of attrition, the two of us, with combat in the flesh.” Narzhak opened the fist and extended his hand towards Ashalla’s form. “And water. No one I’ve seen is as mighty as us. We can wear out this strength against each other without risking to topple the spheres, and it would be well spent.” He reclined his head to one side and added after a moment’s thought, “If you so will.”
“A fight, without malicious intent, but to test each other’s strength against the other?” Ashalla said, then rumbled long and hard. The rumbling stopped, and all the fish nearby, including the sharks, turned and swam away at some silent command. “There is nothing of value nearby to be senselessly destroyed by such a fight. I accept your offer.” Then the mountain of water which was Ashalla’s form collapsed into the ocean with a colossal ripple.
Narzhak’s eyes flared up in surprise as he raised his right arm to bear over the now shapeless waves. She had certainly wasted no time settling into the situation, and, with a solid visage to look at, he had almost forgotten where they were and what that meant. Maybe riling her temper or not did not make such a difference after all. The field was hers in either case, and for him that meant an uphill struggle. It was not unwelcome. This was what he had come for.
The hand held over the surface tightened into a great metallic sphere, spikes rising from it at all angles. The plates on its wrist lengthened into immense blades protruding from both sides of the limb. Those on the left forearm did not stop there, molding themselves into a great bulwark lined with wave-breaking edges and angles. Water was a fickle thing to strike and parry, but as long as he could feel something under his hand, it would be subject to the same laws as all that could be broken and crushed.
The water around Narzhak’s feet began to flow, a torrential current which scoured the sea floor and threatened to destabilise Narzhak’s stance. Behind Narzhak, where the water was flowing to, the water rose up into a mountainous tower. As the water continued to flow, the tower struck forwards and slammed into Narzhak’s head, stupendous amounts of water trying to push the Iron God over.
The giant buckled under the immense blow, almost toppling forward as his feet, already loosened by the draft, dug through the ocean floor. His shoulders, and then head disappeared under the surface as he fell to one knee. However, he had not yet touched down when his shield-bearing arm rose against the watery mass, cutting through it to block its center. With a roar, the god shoved himself up to his feet, pushing upwards into the great wave.
The water shattered against the bulwark and Narzhak, and for a brief moment the watery assault abated. Then all around Narzhak rose massive pseudopods which slammed into the Iron God. He staggered, too slow to respond immediately, and the plates of his armour bent under the blows. Soon, though, his shield slammed down to cover some of the liquid arms, while his maul swept against the others in a wide arc, felling the pseudopods.
The water between Narzhak and his shield then rose up. The growing mountain of water swelled and applied pressure to Narzhak and the shield, trying to pry them apart. He tugged back and forth against it for some moments, then abruptly shifted the shield sideways, leaving the water open to erupt into the remaining tendrils. Those pseudopods collapsed too as the mass of water wavered to regain its balance, then leaned back into Narzhak with all her weight. The god was forced a step backward under the pressure, his feet being pushed over the submerged sand even as he tried to hold in place. His right arm, whose maul was stretching and flattening itself into a broad blade as it moved, swung about, aiming to sever the bulk of water from its base. The blade cut into that water which was Ashalla, but the water pushed back, and with so much water to cut through the blade slowed down as the ‘wound’ sealed itself behind the strike.
Narzhak rumbled as he tried to pry his hand from the fluid trap, to little avail. Gathering his weight on his back leg, he pushed forward shoulder-first into the towering ocean. His right hand, though still sealed, tightened into a clump of spikes and locked fingers which struggled to puncture through its prison. The spikes did nothing to deter Ashalla, and Ashalla flowed with Narzhak as he pushed forwards while maintaining her grip on his arm. More pseudopods blossomed out from her and flailed against the Iron God. Forced ahead by his momentum, Narzhak raised his left arm to fend off the blows while maintaining his balance. That was, until he careened downward and plunged into the waves underneath him, sliding under the surface to bring himself entirely below Ashalla’s form.
Or so he thought. However, as Narzhak felt the pressure of the water grow around him, he realised that he had actually dove straight into Ashalla. Armour plates buckled and tore as the water which was engulfing Narzhak turned against him. Shaking his head in anger, he tried to propel himself upwards, but found his way blocked by the immense pressure. His iron skin, now cracked in places, frantically flowed to mould itself into slender, sharp dynamic ridges, as his hands joined together in a wedge. He raised the tip overhead and pushed towards the surface, meeting the crushing weight of the sea with focused strength. The iron mountain breached through the waves, ichor-tainted water cascading down his sides as he returned to his feet.
From the rippling tsunamis radiating away from Narzhak came a voice. “I can’t say that blood spilled myself tastes any sweeter, but this has been satisfying nonetheless.” A mound of water rose up to face Narzhak, although Ashalla was not as large as she had been before their fight.
“It has, hasn’t it?” The Iron God ran his hands along his arms and body, smoothing over the ridges and sealing the gaps and breaches once more. Several plates were left visibly thinner in places where the metal had been drawn from them to mend the damage. “This is what I would call force well spent. I already feel lighter for it.” He inclined his head forward in an appreciative nod. “Thank you.”
Around him, the spilled ichor hung in the water as a dark cloud. “I’m sure something will appreciate the spoils, too.”
“Indeed,” Ashalla said. Already, sharks were returning, their hardened hides marking them as those who had drank of Narzhak’s ichor before.
The god looked pensively at the flocking beasts, scratching the side of his head in thought. “You know, with how rambunctious some of us are, they may need to make a habit of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was not the last to spill and shred in here. Not that I am even the first.” His mind went back to the tide of crimson blood he had found on the Foot, and he winced as he remembered that the river he had carved from there to the sea was tainted with more than one colour. “And I doubt all of them will be as considerate. If you’ll allow, I can give them a hand with it.”
“Yes, that would be helpful,” Ashalla replied.
Narzhak’s hand swept over the gathered sharks, and the blackened water became an opaque grey, swallowing them in a metallic fog. When it faded moments later, the fish were all but unrecognisable. While their bodies had not been stiff before, they now twisted with wormlike flexibility, sliding through the water more similarly to serpents than fish. Their thick skin was replaced with a slender metallic shell which stretched to follow their movements flawlessly, yet whose strength was manifest in the layered, spiked ridges that interlocked at sparse points over their bodies. The fins were almost entirely gone, with only vestigial protrusions left to mark where they once had been. For all this, though, the most startling change had come over their eyes - the four blood-red slits, mirroring those of the Iron God, pierced the sea with a gaze of cold, ravenous purpose.
“Those should do for now,” he nodded as he surveyed his handiwork, “Though they’ll need to grow in numbers eventually. I did what I could for their noses, but they won’t smell a spill on the other side of the world.”
Ashalla lifted one of the creatures into a raised globule of water as she inspected it. “Yes, these will function nicely,” Ashalla commented, “Although their aesthetics are dull.” The water rippled around the creature, and it adopted subtle changes in hue. The metallic shell gleamed with iridescence, and the exposed flesh took on tones of crimson. The creature was lowered back into the ocean and at Ashalla’s touch the other creatures adopted similar colours. “There, that’s better.”
Narzhak scraped his head perplexedly, but said nothing as part of the beasts slithered away to the northwest. The rest remained circling him, content with draining the last traces of the struggle.
“They’re a ready response,” he mused, “Though it’s not enough on its own. Gods aren’t the only things that can make water filthy. A good preventive strike is enough to deal with most of the smaller nuisances, but I haven’t seen much around the ocean that could be good for that.” From what he remembered of their first moments, Ashalla’s water was something Sartr disliked over all else. He had already turned ice against his heat; now, if the ocean had something in store that could be aimed against it, he would have been remiss to not at least ask. “Is there anything in your domain that can keep pests away?”
“I’ve recently made a few sea beasts to reinforce my dominion over the ocean,” Ashalla said.
“Good defenses start at home,” Narzhak assented, “But, as I said, striking first can save you trouble. Most of the dirtiest things live on dry land, and sea beasts wouldn’t reach them until it’s too late. You need something to remind them of your power, no matter where they are.”
Ashalla rumbled thoughtfully for a few moments. “I have a few patterns which would work well for that.” A tendril of water stretched up next to Narzhak and brushed against some of his armour plates. “Some of your patterns would probably be beneficial for such a creature, too. Perhaps we could make this creature together?”
“We could.” His gaze flickered as he looked down over where droplets flowed down his body from the touch. He ran a finger along the locked edges of a gap in the metallic skin. “We should, I’d even say. A battle-worthy shell would weigh down something much larger than these sharks, but if it needs to be able to get out of the water...” He nodded and glanced at Ashalla. “A challenge of creation isn’t any worse than one of destruction. Let us to it.”
“Excellent. Follow me, I know a good place to make this creature,” Ashalla said.
The Abyssal Rift was a hole in the bottom of the ocean which dwarfed even Narzhak. The descent through the rift plunged the gods into darkness and subjected them to enormous water pressure. While the pressure was no obstacle to the gods, it was deadly to creatures used to the surface. Ashalla adapted some of the blood-drinking sharks to handle the Abyssal pressures so they could clean up after Narzhak.
The bottom of the rift opened into the vast expanse which was the Abyss, lit gently from below by incandescent magma. Turbulent currents buffeted around them. Magma bubbled beneath them. Spires of dark igneous rock dotted the dark submarine landscape.
Narzhak reached the bottom, and his feet slowly sunk into the magma which made the floor of the Abyss. The ocean around him spoke with the sound of swirling currents, “Welcome to the Abyss.”
The god’s eyes coursed over his surroundings, glimmering appreciatively at the vistas of gnarled stone and distant fiery reverbs. “Nice place,” underwater, his voice sounded out deeper yet than usual and surrounded with a faint churning noise, but, oddly, did not spread any worse than through air, “if a little quiet. A good retreat if you ever need one. Though I can’t but notice,” he looked around, unquenched flames piercing the abyssal penumbra, “there’s not much life for us to work with.”
There was a moment of thoughtful rumblings. “Perhaps I could correct that some time…” Ashalla mused. The currents of the Abyss then shifted, and stray plankton and fragments of fish carcasses were gathered near the two deities, the gathered detritus of ocean life. “But we have enough biomass to work with for now. This creature will draw its power from the magma of my Sphere, hence why we are here. Now, let us begin.”
The gathered biomatter coalesced and morphed under Ashalla’s influence, taking the form of a colossal crocodilian with six legs. Narzhak reached forward with a hand, chiselling knots and ropes of flesh into the bulk. His fingertips punctured its skinless surface, injecting rivulets of rapidly solidifying metal into its bones. The outer layers of the body were flattened and etched with shallow grooves for armoured skin to cling to.
As the body came into shape, Ashalla drew up magma from beneath them. Tiny threads of red incandescence snaked around the creature and injected into the creature’s veins, infusing the being with enough heat to cause the water around it to boil, although the flesh was unharmed by the extreme temperatures.
It was still churning as Narzhak laid down plate after iron plate over the being, locking them together like a mesh of reptilian scales. Made malleable by the heat, the metal twisted to flow around the curves and creases of the flesh like the skin it lacked, encasing it in an impenetrable cuirass. Molten droplets ran down and stretched from its underside, where they were caught and moulded into sharp, jagged ridges. The loose edges at the back of its head were lengthened into a spike-topped shield-like crest, and two long, curved horns that were like iron pillars ran from its lower corners to flank the head.
The body floated there in the water for a few moments for the two gods to inspect its ironclad steam-wreathed form. Then the creature’s body expanded as it was given its first watery breath. The creature’s eyes opened and peered through the near-darkness around it. The creature’s six legs and tail wriggled in sequence for it to swim lazily in the water of the Abyss.
“What shall we name it?” Ashalla asked.
His hands still coursing with the energy work brought, Narzhak scratched on his wrist. “It’s... imposing,” he pondered, “more than most of what walks on land. A sign of wrath. Leviathan from the deep.” He was quiet for a moment in uncharacteristic contemplation. “Leviathan,” he repeated, “it’s worthy of not having any more as a name, don’t you think?”
Ashalla rumbled. “The ocean already has Leviathan Anglers. Leviathan of the deep would make this the Abyssal Leviathan.”
“They do?” One of his eyes widened with an absent gaze. The rest remained focused ahead. “They must not be as impressive. I’ve yet to see one. But that’s unsurprising. What could match something we’ve both set hand to? If it is to show its might to the world, it’s but fitting its name should be a reminder of where it came from.”
“Indeed,” Ashalla said. There were no words for a few moments as a thoughtful rumble echoed between the two. “There is the matter of where to send it first. I am not too familiar with the lands of this world. I have explored one region, the blood-stained land of giant creatures on the vast continent, but I have already placed a mighty creature of my own there.”
“The one with a coast longer than the island Kirron brought up twice over? I haven’t seen much of it. There were some small, speaking things near the sea the last time I passed by, though,” Narzhak reminisced, eye still distant, “One was a very good listener. They wouldn’t need another show of power. But someone else -” his gaze snapped to the present in its entirety, “In that same place I just came from, a flaming rabble was making itself an annoyance not long ago. If they reach the forests they were headed for, there’ll be ash to spare for the whole ocean. I couldn’t think of a better opportunity for the Leviathan to show both purpose and strength.”
At the mention of the forests, there was a sudden change in the water. Although Ashalla had no face beneath the water, the agitation of the currents was enough to indicate Ashalla’s feelings. Phystene’s forests! Ashalla thought in alarm. Then she said in a voice like a coming storm, “Yes, that is an ideal location. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Leviathan, with me!” The Abyssal Leviathan, which had been wading in the magma below, perked up at the command. With surprising speed for a creature of its size it swam upwards through the rift above, following behind the flowing current which was Ashalla. They had an army to face.
