The Red Goddess

Angronius dismounted and glared hatefully at the colossal rock jutting out of the face of the earth, the one that towered above him and whose name was held with all due reverence by the people of Stygia.

Mount Khyaltuwa. Sonjita said that Polgara's salvation lay at the peak of the mountain, and yet there was no clear path cut into the face of the mountain. The road, the treaded path, it ended there at its feet. The gladiator king's heart burned with anger, for he felt as though the mountain was taunting him. The Nails were goading him to desecrate the holy place in response, it was a temptation he resisted half-heartedly.

"From here, we must climb." The Red Maiden said to him as she tied a harness around her slender waist and secured herself to her dune cat's saddle. When she moved to secure Polgara as well, Angronius refused. He took a length of rope from Sonjita's pack and wordlessly worked to tie Polgara to himself. When Sonjita saw this, she gave him an incredulous look and laughed humorlessly.

"You're not seriously planning on climbing up by yourself, are you?"

Angronius' only reply was a low growl. He leapt upon the stubborn stone base and started to climb. Nimbly, he scaled the rocky face as though he had hooks for hands. Onwards he went, without pause, leaving a bewildered Sonjita to stare after him in astonishment. She followed him up, riding atop her trusty dune cat. There was but one path to the peak, and Angronius followed it like a bloodhound on the scent. He climbed quickly, for every delay meant Polgara's life slipped further away as well as the child within her womb.

The gladiator king gained distance with supernatural speed, ascending till the heights gained the clouds and the air grew thin. He pushed through till he could no longer see the ground, till he disappeared into the vast and cool mists that separated the upper half of Mt. Khyaltuwa from the earth below. Once before, he had scaled a seemingly impossible barrier to gain his freedom, with nothing but his bloody fingers and stubborn will to hold him up. Now, he scaled the highest mountain in the world for love.

He didn't care at all that his hands started to ache, or that his fingers tore up and bled like someone took a scalpel to it and started peeling the skin back. And even when Polgara started to gasp for air, Angronius knew he couldn't stop. The only way to help her was to get to the peak, to whatever or whoever awaited them there.

His vision constricted until all he could see was the way forward, and before he knew it he had already emerged from the cap clouds, the sky crown adorning the head of the holy mountain. There, it felt as though they'd just climbed into an unseen bubble resting atop the peak, where the air was as clean and fresh as it was below.

Polgara looked up weakly and said, "Angron... look. The heavens are laid bare... you can see all the stars from here..."

Angronius said nothing, for his attention was fixed elsewhere- to the temple cut into the rocks of the mountain peak. A temple of extraordinary dimensions, made of smooth stone that reflected the moon's light whenever touched by it, stood before the gladiator king. It was without a doubt ancient beyond comprehension, but it looked to have weathered the elements well till the present day. The stones were not cut by human hands, and the air was thick with the influence of the Warp.

A great power dwelled within the temple, of that Angronius could be certain.

"What is this place?" He asked Sonjita when she arrived at the peak moments later.

The Red Maiden untied herself from her cat and dismounted, "The temple of the Red Goddess. This is where we can get help for your woman. A word of advice, mind your manners and just let me do all the talking."

Talking meant that someone lived in the temple, perhaps members of an old faith that predated even the most primitive of tribes in the Freelands. People that Sonjita was well acquainted with, for her to regard it with such familiarity.

"You've been here before." Angronius said, unfastening Polgara so he could carry her in his arms.

"Yes." Sonjita replied, "This is where I found the Red Goddess, this is where I traded mortal flesh for one of steel. Come, we must-"

"Stop." Angronius declared suddenly, feeling rather suspicious now that she mentioned it. The gladiator king was no simpleton, he could smell trouble a mile away and the Red Maiden reeked of it. "I would know of what you're planning to do. What manner of 'help' are you offering here?"

Exasperated, Sonjita snapped. "The only thing I'm offering is to save your woman's life, you fucking boor! And your reluctance is going to mean the death of her!"

Angronius was about to retort when Polgara weakly gave voice to her support for the woman, "Please... Angron... we can trust her."

He was already at the peak, halfway towards the goal. Although remaining largely hesitant, the man followed the Red Maiden to the temple entrance. There, they met the guardian of the gate. There, Angronius realized that the temple was no home to mere men, but home to things not quite human.

The guardian stood like a man, had the shoulders, the body and the look of a man. His skin, however, was thick and rugged like a crocodile's. Rough and armored, dark green from head to toe. His eyes were bright gold and slitted down the middle, lizard eyes that seemed to selfishly hold back centuries of wisdom like a stingy miser does with his gold. His face was scarred, but the scars were ritualistic in nature. They adorned his smooth head like a crown and stretched down over his neck. His chest was bared, a sash of black satin was wrapped around his waist and hips, while ceremonial wrappings of gold and white covered his sturdy legs until they stopped at his bare feet.

His large hands rested over an ornate sword stuck firmly into the stone pedestal upon which he stood immobile since Angronius first saw him. When the guardian saw Sonjita, his stern face relaxed although his eyes cautiously stared the gladiator king down.

When he spoke, his words were a potent mix of a warrior's grizzled drivel and a courtly diplomat's enlightened speech. "Sonja. You've returned, and with company this time."

Sonjita's oft battle-hardened and predatory expression softened at the sight of the guardian. She approached the towering lizard-man and embraced him like an old friend. "Saartur... it is good to see you again."

"Why have you come?" Saartur inquired.

"This is Angronius." Sonjita said, motioning for the gladiator king to come forward. "Nucerian shades came for him, wounding his wife in the fight. We've come to seek the goddess' aid."

The lizard-man examined Polgara carefully, for he was aware of the giant glaring at him. He drew back and gestured for the visitors to proceed. "Scáthach will help her. You may enter."

"Come, this way." Sonjita beckoned, leading Angronius inside. The gates opened with a low growl of old stones rubbing against older stones, permitting the trio entry into the temple's chambers. The stones within the holy place lit up as though they were alive, illuminating the path from the antechamber to the temple's inner sanctum.

If the air outside felt heavy with the Empyrean, the air inside the temple weighed twice as much that Angronius felt like he was suffocating. Curiously, neither Sonjita nor Polgara seemed to mind.

The Red Maiden approached the lone figure dressed in dark scarlet robes, sitting before a giant loom in the middle of the room. This loom was of otherworldly proportions, its strands shimmered bright with the moonlight pouring down from the clear and open temple roof. The lithe and graceful hands which twisted and weaved through the golden cosmic strands told Angronius that this was the Red Goddess Sonjita told him about. From the way the light danced upon her gleaming skin, he could tell that she was no less alien to him than Saartur was. Already, he could feel his apprehensions rise with his growing skepticism.

Sonjita knelt on one knee before her goddess, "Hail Scáthach, Red Goddess of Time Immemorial, we seek your aid."

"Little Sonja?" The Red Goddess paused in her work, set aside the thread spool and gathered up her skirts to greet her disciple. She touched Sonjita's cheek and pulled her to her feet so she could hold her to her breast, "Welcome back, my child..."

Her voice was like the soft melody of a gentle wind passing through forest trees. When she turned to face the other two, Angronius felt his jaw slacken at the goddess' appearance.

She was a lizard that walked on two legs, but a lizard that had the face of a woman and the regal bearing of one born of royalty. Her skin was smooth like polished marble, her scales were patterned appealingly like intricate tattoos and did not jut like Saartur's. A scarlet hood adorned her head, and braided locks tied together with golden rings hung from her shoulders like a garland. Kind eyes of bright purple beheld the gladiator king and his wife with pity.

And although every fiber of Angronius' being screamed revulsion, he couldn't help but admire this beautiful thing that was so alien that it defied his comprehension.

"Oh, what happened here?" Scáthach approached him, hands outstretched to touch the wounded Polgara. When she saw his apprehensive stance, she smiled reassuringly. "Please, may I?"

"Well?" The Red Maiden chided Angronius for his reluctance, "This is what you came for, isn't it?"

Finally, the gladiator king relented. He gently placed Polgara before the goddess' feet and allowed Scáthach to do her work. The Red Goddess examined the dying woman quickly and laid her hands upon her wounds. She turned her head to the Red Maiden, "Sonja, would you be a dear and fetch me my spool?"

Sonjita obeyed, handing the goddess her golden spool of cosmic threads. With this, Scáthach conjured a needle out of thin air and threaded it, then set to work on sealing the wound. The needle passed through Polgara's skin painlessly and with little effort, the cosmic thread coaxed life back into the torn flesh and bound the gash. When the goddess was finished, the bleeding had stopped and there was no mark was left on the woman's body. It was as if the wound never existed.

Weakened, but remaining very much alive, Polgara closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

Relieved beyond words, Angronius lifted his eyes to the goddess. Out of all the gratitude welling up in his heart, all he could manage was a brief word of thanks. "Thank you."

Scáthach permitted them to stay while the woman recovered her strength. For many days, Polgara remained asleep and Angronius refused to leave her side. Meanwhile, Sonjita took this time to share tales of her battles throughout the Freelands, of the many lives she had taken to rid Stygia of the Nucerians. Scáthach listened to her stories, but made it quite clear that she didn't approve of her actions and how she was using the gifts she had given her.

That didn't stop the Firebrand from bragging about her accomplishments, as a proud child would boast to its parent. "Hundreds of Nucerian heads I've taken, with many more to follow when I finally gather enough men to assault Vendhayana and free the city from the Empire's control!"

Scáthach quietly reflected on the first time she met Sonjita. It felt almost like a lifetime ago, there on the very steps of the temple she had called home for thousands of years. The young woman came to her, broken and desolate after being subjected to the cruelty of the Nucerian invaders. Sonjita climbed the mountain in hopes of finding the truth of the stories, of the goddess that dwelled atop Mt. Khyaltuwa. There, Scáthach mended her wounded soul and gifted her with the binding of steel to flesh, so that no blade shall ever pierce her skin. With Saartur, she was trained with the sword, so that no man shall ever sully her honor again.

With these gifts, Sonjita returned to the realms of men. With these gifts, she used as instruments of vengeance. The deeds of those Nucerians who wronged her left a hole in her heart that could never be filled, save for Nucerian blood. Scáthach hoped that in due time, she would weary of the slaughter and use her gifts to instead fend for the defenseless.

So far, it seemed like such a time wasn't bound to come any sooner.

"And when you have finally rid your homeland of Nucerians, will it satisfy your lust for blood?" Scáthach asked, "You bear my name as the Red Maiden into battle, without thought of why I wear the scarlet colors. I live only to give life, you live only to take it."

"In all the time you've witnessed mankind grow, you still think there is another way of living?" Sonjita argued, "I have learned it early on and paid a heavy price too. Violence is the language of the universe, there will be no lasting peace for only war is eternal! Yes, my goddess, I will have blood. But if my way of honoring your gifts offends you, I will willingly part with-"

"No, it is far too late for that." Scáthach sighed, "In the infancy of this world, I was known for my benevolence. I will be known now as a patron of vengeance, and will be known for a time. But I will outlive the actions of my wayward disciple, as I have with so many things. Do with your gifts what you will..."

Sonjita scowled, then stormed off.

Scáthach stared after her as she left the temple. She noticed Angronius watching them from the other end of the room. "She does not seek to defy me. Alas, we are natures apart. Never fated to agree on her actions."

"I'm afraid I'm inclined to agree on her stance." The gladiator king confessed, "I too am owed a debt of blood from the Nucerians. Although, I myself am occupied with more pressing concerns."

"It is unfortunate that Sonja has no one to hold her heart, to help her see beyond a life of bloodshed and war."

"Why is that?"

Scáthach smiled and turned back to work on her loom, "She has long declared that no man in all of Stygia is worthy of her. Her standards are quite high, thanks to Saartur. But never mind an old weaver's misgivings, these are not for your ears."

"Hmph." Angronius grunted, watching her weave the cosmic threads skillfully until they created a beautiful tapestry of unmatched quality upon the loom. His eyes studied the Red Goddess closely and noticed that for all her otherworldly features, she didn't look any of the divine sort to him. "What are you?", he breathed.

Scáthach paused in her work and turned her head to him with a puzzled look on her face.

"Are you truly a goddess?" Angronius asked. "I... I have seen a god in my dreams. You look nothing like that."

Scáthach shook her head, "No, Little Angron, I am not."

"And yet the people of this land call you one."

"They call me many things to justify their limited understanding of things beyond their comprehension."

"Are you beyond my comprehension?"

Scáthach laughed heartily, her voice uplifting Angronius' spirits as though it sent gentle ripples through the fabric of reality. "I suppose not. No, you are of a breed higher than these mortal creatures. I can sense it, your presence in the Empyrean. No, it is you who carries the blood of a god in his veins."

"So they tell me. But what about you?" Angronius drew closer, eager to have his curiosity sated. "If you are no goddess, what are you then?

"My people have walked the mortal realms since the days when the universe was at its infancy. This reality and the one that mirrors it, the Empyrean, were our domain. We were the shepherds of the young races, the ones that came before you. But by the time your kind emerged from your homeworld, everything that we've created over the innumerable millennia of our reign was lost. All that you see here now, this lonely temple atop this lonely mountain, it is all that remains of our glorious civilization."

"I... I don't understand. What do you mean by 'lost'? Lost to what?"

"War, Little Angron. Lost to war." Scáthach's eyes lowered, her voice grew sad. "In this, Sonja is correct. Violence is the language of the universe. We did not teach this, but the universe was schooled under a far more ancient master than us."

She looked up at him, and now it was Angronius' turn to be studied. So many things weighed on his mind, she could tell. He thought of battles, of wars to be waged, but not out of a need for conquest or bloodlust. He thought to wage war to protect those dearest to him, a far nobler cause than mere vengeance. "You, you were born for war. Every time I peer into the long shadow you cast upon the Warp, I see what you were created for."

"You would know of these things?" The gladiator king replied, skeptical of the alien woman's claim. "How? I don't even know the woman who gave birth to me, nor the man who sired me."

"Neither were responsible for how you came to be. And I foresee that whatever divine being created you will one day come for its creation. When that time comes, you will bathe the heavens in fire and blood."

"I put little faith in prophecies, I'll have you know."

Scáthach shrugged and continued working the loom, at last finishing the tapestry. "Then let it not rob you of sleep in the night, Little Angron. After all, why read the last page of a book before its time?"

"Tell me this, Scáthach." Angronius inquired, now curious of a particular fate that concerns him. "If I go to war against Nuceria, will I win?"

The Old One looked at him thoughtfully and paused before giving her answer, "You will, though not in a manner you find agreeable. For as long as you live, Nuceria's name will remain."

Suddenly, Angronius wished he didn't ask and silently cursed himself for doing so.

"Angronius!" Sonjita called out as she raced back inside the temple, "Come! Your people are under attack! Nucerians are at our door!"

The gladiator king glanced at Scáthach, then to the sleeping figure curled up on the temple floor next to him, then back to her. The Red Goddess smiled reassuringly, "I will watch over her. Go and help your people, they need you."

Nodding gratefully, Angronius followed Sonjita to the edge of the mountain peak. The clouds had long receded, revealing the chaos unfolding beneath them. Saartur stood watch, his face holding a grimace of disdain for the Imperial aircraft strafing the freedman citadel. Before long, Angronius was standing beside him.

And he was furious.

His teeth clenched together so tightly that they could hear them grind, the veins on his temples bulged obscenely as blood rushed into his head. The Nails were doing their work on him, threatening to bleach him clean of all reason, but as always Angronius hammered them back till his thoughts were clear enough to form a plan.

The legions of Nuceria were marching out of the forests, their vanguard leading the attack by whittling down the meager defenses of the rebel slaves. It could all be clearly seen from atop Mt. Khyaltuwa, both Angronius and Sonjita knew that if they did not intervene the freedmen would be wiped out.

"What's to be done?" The Red Maiden asked.

Angronius let out a snarl, then promptly leaped off the mountain. If it were anyone else, such a move was by all definition suicidal. But the gladiator king, the Slayer of the Maw, was not bound by mortal limitations. If he were to meet the earth, it would bend before him in deference- not the other way around.

As he fell, the air grew awfully cold as it rushed up to him. With every hundred meter he passed, Angronius felt his chest hammer heavily with the wild beating of his twin hearts. His hands curled up into fists, and he opened his mouth to unleash a bestial roar that put even the most powerful storms in the Freelands to shame. His voice rolled across the heavens like thunder, causing the legionaries adorned in sparkling gilded armor to look up in horror at the figure hurtling towards them at breakneck speed.

Only one thing served to break his fall, and it was a Nucerian Imperial strike-fighter.

The aircraft shattered into a red cloud of burning debris, and the gladiator king made landfall upon the green sea. The earth opened up, sending tremors through the valley that cracked entire hills and buried forests in mounds of dirt. In the confusion, the veteran legionaries closed ranks and prepared to overwhelm the opposition with a wall of stubber-rounds and las-fire.

When Angronius finally emerged to meet his foes, he had retrieved Gorefather and Gorechild from the ruins of his home. His fingers squeezed tightly to the chainaxes, and they roared together, heralding the Nucerian 5th Legion's bloody end.

"It's him!" A Nucerian officer cried, his outstretched hand pointing feverishly at the giant. "It's Angronius! Kill him!"

The legionaries redirected their fury from the slaughter of the rebel slaves to the gladiator king. Once before, Angronius faced Acraesius' men in the wharves of Hyrkan and barely survived the encounter. He'd grown in strength and tenacity since then. And he wasn't just fighting for his own life now, he was fighting for every man, woman and child sworn to his banner.

Gorefather and Gorechild were hungry, and that day they would feast on Nucerian flesh.