Prince of Lies - James Lowder [34]
The Night Serpent tilted her head slightly. "But, come, you may search my cave. I have nothing to hide from Cyric, least of all his nightmares."
Perdix started forward tentatively while Af grabbed Gwydion with one hand and climbed boldly into the cave. Light from the swirling crimson sky reached shallowly into the murk, revealing a wide stone floor littered with bones. Only the tip of the Night Serpent's snout was visible, but it was as large as a noble's town house in the richest part of Suzail. The yellow eyes seemed to hover in the darkness, twin pools of cunning and malice.
Those eyes focused on Gwydion as he entered the cave. The slitted pupils dwarfed the trembling soul. "I was sorry to see you die, Gwydion," the Night Serpent hissed. "Your nightmares were delicious."
"B-But I never had nightmares," the sell-sword replied meekly.
The bloody fangs flashed again – a smile, perhaps? "If you'd remembered them, dear Gwydion, I couldn't have made them mine." The Night Serpent tilted her head slightly. "Come, now. Has the world grown so smug that you know nothing of Dendar the Night Serpent? Don't the elders teach the poem any longer?"
Gwydion's memory stirred, and he heard his grandfather's voice repeating a childish rhyme:
"In Shar's domain of night I rest,
So dreams may show me how I'm blessed.
If screams of terror break my sleep,
Then Dendar's sunk her fangs too deep."
A shudder wracked the sell-sword. Dendar was a myth meant to frighten children into going to bed when their parents wanted – or so he'd always believed. His grandfather had told him that the Night Serpent ate the horrible dreams of disobedient boys and girls, growing fat so she could rise from Hades at the end of the world and swallow the sun. Each nightmare you couldn't remember was another pound of flesh on Dendar's bones.
The Night Serpent nodded her black snout, recognizing the fright in Gwydion's eyes. "Ah, I see you do know me. I'm relieved."
"Er, excuse me, Dendar," said Perdix, "But you're blocking the way. We can't go any farther into the cave unless you give way."
"My body has grown so large only my head has room to move," the Night Serpent said. "So the mouth of the cave is the only place big enough for anything to hide – and, as you can see, there is nothing here." Dendar swept her snout slowly back and forth over the pile of bones. "I like to think my predicament means the world will end soon."
Perdix nodded with all the enthusiasm he could muster. "We can only hope. Well, we'll be going. Let Cyric know if you see anyone suspicious lurking around your cave."
"Certainly," the Night Serpent purred.
"Come on, Af," the little denizen said. He turned to his brutish fellow, but found the wolf-headed creature frozen in place. "What is it?"
Af lifted a misshapen skull from the scattering of bones beneath his coils. "These are from denizens," he murmured.
"Of course," Dendar said nonchalantly. "They don't taste very good – not as good as a fresh soul, anyway – but Cyric throws in a few denizens along with the shades for variety. The whole idea of a levy is for show. The forgotten nightmares are food enough for me, as you might guess from my bulk."
"But we're his servants," Af said to no one in particular. He shook the denizen's skull until it broke. "Cyric can punish us or torture us, but we're not supposed to be destroyed. The levy should be drawn from the False!"
"How can you destroy a soul?" Gwydion asked. "I mean we're already dead."
"There are ways to pass beyond death," Dendar hissed with smug self-satisfaction. "But your denizen friends would have no reason to seek out oblivion. They're happy with their lot in death. As for the False or the Faithless – well, Cyric has absolute command over their