The Cult of the Hyper-Worm

By Colin Litten-Brown

Cill was different, that much he knew but of his past he had no memory. While he remained on the farm, herding Bopes, with his friend Balton and his daughter Senya he knew he was safe but the time was rapidly coming when he knew he would have to leave, to head to the city where, perhaps, the answers to the riddle of his life lay. Even if he chose to hide, the time of safety was drawing to a close. Grayheme the rebel had disappeared and the brotherhood scoured the land for any sign of his passage, all the while squeezing the population for heavier and heavier taxes. With a time of census drawing close and the priests threatening to invade his secluded life, Cill new that he would have to face his past, discover the secret of his life and, almost certainly, confront the Cult of the Hyper-Worm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504988353

Colin Litten-Brown

Colin Litten-Brown has misspent the last twenty-six years of his career developing household and personal care products. He has the following books published: The Gates of Atopia, Williams’ Wonder Wax, The Warriors of Atopia, The Legacy Conspiracy, and The Legend of the Hyper-Worm. The Cult of the Hyper-Worm is his latest work. He still develops household and personal care products mainly to keep the house tidy! Colin lives in Kent, England, with his wife, Jennie, and his three children, Mia, Josh, and Iona.

Book preview

THE CULT OF THE

HYPER-WORM

COLIN LITTEN-BROWN

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AuthorHouse™ UK

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

© 2015 Colin Litten-Brown. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/10/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-8833-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-8835-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

INTRODUCTION

W hat a difference a few years makes! When I started my writing career it was on the back of being made redundant from a job. Here I am six years later finally publishing this latest book a year after completion for the sole reason that I had been made redundant from yet another job and could not afford the laughingly minor outlay to get it into print.

An outlay to get the book into print? Yes, I hear the scathing laughter that I still doggedly pursue the self-publishing route but you have to understand that unlike many budding authors I am not blind to the harsh realities of the writing world and certainly am not relying on this as a sole source of income.

Does this mean I am in effect employing vanity press, possibly yes and this I do not deny. I think we all need our egos to be pampered a little through the journey of life but the fact is that commercial success is not my main motivation.

At this stage I am sure my very limited readership are saying just as well but I do not mind. Writing is and will always be escapism for me and I write not only what I want to write but what seems like a good idea at the time. Not chasing the dream allows me to do so with such utter freedom that I believe what I write is, at least, honest.

There is one flaw in this plan, of course, as will be evident when writing a series of books. I am definitely not the same person that I was when I conceived the nucleus of the idea that was to become the Atopia / Hyper Worm series two (or probably three) decades ago and it is interesting to observe that I am even a different person now to when I penned The Gates of Atopia and actually started on this publishing journey.

The over-arching intent of the series remains the same but I make no apologies if the style and the subliminal optimism, pessimism or any other sort of ism has changed over time. This is merely a reflection of me in the now as opposed to me in the then. It is no different to a series of movies where different directors jump in and out to interpret different films within the same franchise.

At least with this book I don’t have the looming issue that I have with the next one. My goal with this series was always clear, two trilogies that end on the same book. The problem is that I have now utterly forgotten the content of all the other books, a habit that I seem to have formed from the outset, so when I get around to penning the finale I am first going to have to go back and read the rest of the series, including this book, to remember what threads I left in place so that I can adequately pick them up.

While being a big Sci-Fi fan I am not one of those that remembers every last detail of every series with the sole intention of identifying the continuity errors. As soon as I have finished a project I am on to the next one and the delete button in my mind is pressed. It is only down to my fantastic proof-reading team (my mother-in-law) that I have been able to publish this one a year after completion as she alone has actually read it and corrected it in context. Thanks Hil!

As to where I am – well I have been in and out of another painful period of redundancy and job-hunting and out the other end into a new career which is at the same time challenging but exciting. The last year or so has, however, proven the fact that nothing quite works out the way you think it will.

That said, with three children all developing far beyond expectations, a house and wife that I love and living in an area with great friends, I am not blind to the fact that things could be a whole heap worse!

Take this latest episode of the series for what it is and the context in which it was written, many business trips to Rosporden in Brittany and Zhongshan in China in which I spent far too much of my life away from my family and stuck in that endless cycle of business trains, planes, hotels and taxis. I am only glad that I have not descended into the corporate world of assuming that every waking hour of these journeys was to be devoted to work and that I had the escape of the universe of my creation to explore.

While my books are written for purely selfish reasons if, by some inexplicable series of events, someone out there actually gets around to reading them and, even more inexplicably, the introduction, I do genuinely hope you enjoy what I have written.

So, on that note, here we go with the latest instalment…!

Oh, and thanks again to Hilary for her invaluable proof-reading and for my family for continuing to make life worth living.

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE

I n The Legend of the Hyper-Worm the story opened with a mysterious figure, Gideon Blank, accepting a mission from anonymous powers to locate and follow a Human from the Planet Earth. Gideon is a creature of energy who can adopt an almost infinite variety of organic forms as prepared by his personal cloning machine and he uses this to great effect to infiltrate whatever society he is operating in.

Gideon takes on those kinds of tasks that other individuals cannot do, from assassination to industrial espionage but his payment is always in the form of technology, driven by his desire to discover his origins and true identity.

On Earth, Will Corder’s life has pretty much fallen apart. His long-term girlfriend has left him and life has lost all meaning. To make matters worse, his boss, Nigel Bellingham, has it in for him and Will finds himself on the brink of losing even his career.

Called into work urgently at the explicit request of his project sponsors, the mysterious Josh & Hannah Taylor of the Avery-Hart institute, Will finds himself propelled into an urgent trip to Egypt to make initial preparations for a proposed civil engineering project.

Caught up in the rush of arrangements, he does not notice that Nigel Bellingham is, in fact, under the control of Gideon Blank who is facilitating the whole scenario according to his given instructions. Even stranger is the fact that the Taylors seem very keen to send Will on the trip, hinting at their own ulterior motives.

Putting his personal problems to one side Will departs for Egypt, unaware that Gideon is already ahead of him, making preparations for his arrival. When Will lands in Egypt he is met by Gideon in disguise and taken out into the desert of the Qattara Depression where he is attacked by men in Gideon’s employ and left for dead in a pre-arranged spot. Gideon kills his henchmen and waits to see what will happen next.

The location for Will’s attack was deliberate and precisely above the spot where an alien spacecraft lay hidden in the sand. Faced with a dilemma, the occupants of the ship, Ergon and Galian, decide to take Will aboard and nurse him back to health.

Will awakes in the strange environment of the ship and meets his alien rescuers, discovering that they are on a scientific mission to locate the remnants of an interstellar transit network in the hope of understanding how the technology works. At present they are only able to use a fraction of the ancient network and then very inefficiently.

With Will aboard and having completed their examination of the derelict beacon on Earth they depart with the intention of examining a similar one located on Mars but before they get the opportunity they receive a distress call from their home system that requires their immediate return. The Cilian Unity in which they are members has a long-standing conflict with the Moldavian Empire and the indications were good that full-out war had erupted.

Realising that Will is in some way linked to their mission they decide to take him along but knowing they are heading into uncertain danger they plan rather than to head back to their home base to divert to a remote maintenance outpost on the planet Drell.

Gideon, tracking their every move covertly, follows.

Arriving at Drell they find the outpost, located deep within a mountain, devastated. Despite the danger, realising that they need to know what had occurred, they decide to penetrate the remains of the base to try and recover information from the central computer and descend to the planet in a shuttle craft.

The only way in is through the outflow into the power plant at the base of the outpost and they gain entry but, as they are attempting to reach the upper levels they are attacked by a shapeless dark creature and only just escape.

Within the outpost itself they find a scene of devastation and death but they eventually discover the horrific truth that their own military had caused the devastation with the precise intention of recalling Ergon & Galian, along with them the location of the Starfire, the secret research vessel from which the investigation into interstellar beacon technology was being run.

They realise with some horror that their own military are trying to wrest control of the interstellar network as a means of gaining supremacy over the Moldavians.

Before they can escape, an earthquake shakes the base, separating them and causing extensive damage. Will is forced to descend back through the power plant while Ergon and Galian have no choice but to head upwards to the wrecked hangar level.

As Will passes through the power plant he is pursued by the dark beast and, on emerging, almost captured but is saved at the last moment by Gideon in the form of his old boss Nigel. Gideon leaves Will who is captured by the Cilian military.

Ergon and Galian manage to reach the hangar level but are also captured.

Deep in space, the Moldavian fleet is monitoring the situation and moves in to follow the Cilian fleet.

The Cilian military leader discovers the location of the Starfire and forces Ergon and Galian to use their ship as a Trojan Horse to allow him to capture the Starfire.

Realising the enormity of the situation, the Moldavian commander retro-fits an old battleship as a huge bomb and sends it in towards the Cilian fleet.

On board the Starfire, in the confusion of battle Will escapes into the network of service tunnels and finds his way to the computer core of the ship where he encounters a strange crystalline entity that has been enslaved to run all of the ship’s systems. Forming a pact with the entity Will agrees to take the crystalline being with him in return for the creature assisting with their escape.

The Moldavian ship detonates and the expanding shock-wave devastates the Cilian fleet. With the crystalline entity removed the computer systems are not able to sustain the Starfire’s defences and the ship is fatally crippled.

Ergon and Galian escape in the confusion but the Cilian Commander pursues Will to a probe ship in which Will and the crystalline entity are attempting to escape. They overcome the commander and access the probe ship but as they are affecting their escape the Starfire itself detonates and is destroyed utterly.

Assuming his mission has been a failure amidst the post-battle confusion, Gideon moves to leave but is confronted by his mysterious employer who puts him straight and tells him that the mission is not yet over….

The story continues.

PROLOGUE

N ot for the first time in his life Variak cursed his lack of knowledge when it came to all things natural. It was unlikely, however, that this deficiency had been any more important than at this precise moment. Never before had his life depended on it.

In some respects it no longer mattered. He was surrounded by so many deaths that the question was more one of which would claim him rather than whether he would survive.

Despite the soaring canopy of the Gigaron trees above him enough of the torrential downpour found its way to the dark forest floor to ensure he was soaked to the skin.

Variak was totally lost, running blind, his eyes full of rainwater and terror. His ceremonial robes were in tatters, shredded by the thorny undergrowth and countless impacts with the rock-hard trunks that surrounded him.

The only saving grace was the luminescent moss that carpeted the forest, knocking the edge from the darkness just enough for him to find his way, not that he had the faintest clue in which direction he was moving. He knew enough about disorientation to be painfully aware that he could easily have gone around in a circle and could, for all he knew, be running towards his pursuers rather than away from them.

Sounds were distorted as they echoed and reverberated from the Gigaron trunks making it next to impossible to tell where the sounds of pursuit were coming from but his best judgement was that the men that tracked him were still some way behind.

They were in no hurry for the pack of Drashounds they had with them would follow his scent regardless of where he went. This much he knew all too well, they were his Drashounds after all, not that they would feel the slightest loyalty towards him. To them he was nothing more than prey.

He dropped to the ground as the sky overhead exploded, the Gigaron trees ringing with the blow as they absorbed the blast of lightning. Their cores were essentially metal, deposited over hundreds of years from the mineral-rich water they drew from their deep roots. This made them incredibly strong and indeed the temple from which he had so recently fled was supported on immense columns of Gigaron trunks, centuries old and hard as stone.

It also made them natural lightning conductors, no doubt a survival trait as channelling the power to the ground ultimately saved the trees where lesser species would be blasted to atoms. This did mean, however, that standing in a forest of Gigaron trees in one of the severest storms in living memory was about as close to suicide as possible.

Even with their natural defences it was not uncommon for old or diseased Gigarons to literally explode when struck by lightning, destroying everything in their vicinity in the process.

While the ground usually dissipated the lightning’s power there was also the chance that it would reach the surface.

Variak had deliberately come this way in the hope that the mob would value their own lives over ending his but such was their passion that they had not been deterred. They would chase him through the very gates of the netherworld if required.

Gasping for breath he struggled to his feet again and stared around wildly. Once again he was confused and tried to remember which direction he had been heading in but all ways looked the same.

Closing his eyes, he listened for the sounds of pursuit. There, in the distance, the clear sounds of men shouting, much closer now.

Just as he was starting to move Variak froze again as another sound reached his ears, a deep guttural growling much closer than the approaching warriors. Something else was stalking him.

The forest was deadly, that much he knew but although he could identify many of the species by sight he was not sufficiently familiar with all of their cries to know which of the many carnivorous beasts now had his scent.

Those living on the edge of the forest were in constant fear of the creatures in the darkness and few folk ever strayed more than a few steps within the shade of the trees. How far the forest stretched nobody knew for all that had ventured deep had never returned.

Variak had hoped that the storm would have kept the predators at bay but in this he was also deeply mistaken.

From as far back as his memory stretched he had been in the temple, claimed by the brotherhood from his parents who he had never known when he was but a small child. His training had been in all things theological but this did not extend to the practical skills of the proles.

The ability to wield the sacrificial dagger did not require him to know how to forge steel. The temple had provided all and the people had provided the temple. This was the way the old religion had worked for millennia.

Times were, however, changing, the peasantry revolting. A new wave of religious fervour had arisen around a new sect with dangerous ideas. They required no sacrifice, no offering of any kind and even promised the populace a say in how their lives were run.

The men behind this new movement were greedy and false, believing in nothing more than their own selfish ends and the desire to fill their pockets and their bellies. The freedom they peddled was no more than slavery by another name but Variak and the other priests had been slow to recognise the threat for what it was.

He had no doubt that the old religion was unpopular but the pursuit of everlasting salvation required sacrifice and hardship from all. The way being offered now was the easy path that led to damnation but a veil had fallen over the eyes of the people. Too quick had they been to turn from the path of truth and for this he knew they would ultimately pay.

As he staggered on, delaying his own death for a few more minutes, Variak frowned. In his heart he had always known that he would rule over the golden age of the old religion but now he was the last surviving priest, the temple put to the fire and soon the old religion would die with him.

Ozgur, show me the way! Variak stared up into the torrent of water, hands held high. Save me, the last of your loyal follower so I may restore your word to the people!

It was a desperate plea, he knew. Fanatical as he was he had never received the vision with which his God had honoured those before him. Each High Priest had, just before his appointment, been visited by Ozgur in signs and omens, confirming their ascension to the position of ultimate power, the unquestioned voice of Ozgur himself.

Variak’s own ascension had been mere weeks away when the crisis had overwhelmed his sect. He knew now that he would die having never attained that for which he had spent his life preparing.

It filled him with bitterness, tempered only by the thought that of all the people in the land, he would be the last to sit at the hand of Ozgur in the next world. Every other person alive was now damned for all eternity. He turned and sneered. It was all they deserved.

There was a crash in the undergrowth nearby as whatever it was that stalked him came closer. By the sound of it the creature was paralleling his path, watching him until it could gauge whether or not it was safe to attack. This level of stealth indicated either a Fangdon or a Stelcat but he could not determine which. Either would bring about his demise with equal efficiency.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the canopy but this time Variak did not react. With death so close his brain was tuning everything else out.

He sighed and came to a stop. The end was close now and here was as good a place as any to meet it. Ozgur would prefer he met his death with pride rather than fleeing from it in terror and it pleased him that the beast would deny his pursuers their prize.

Closing his eyes, Variak held his arms out in the gesture of praise and dropped to his knees, chanting the secret prayer that only those in the highest order of the brotherhood knew, Ozgur’s prayer. His thin forearms were streaked with blood and grime, the scent driving the nearby carnivore insane with hunger and it howled voraciously.

Stelcat. Variak thought. The cry was unmistakable and his thoughts were confirmed as the huge, muscular beast appeared through the trees, its black eyes fixed upon him.

I beg you, mighty Ozgur, make my passing swift.

The fear rose within him, flooding every fibre of his being but then it crested, ebbed away as an insane elation took its place. Slowly, a smile spreading across his face, he rose and faced the angel of his death, stepping towards it slowly.

For a moment the creature paused, unaccustomed to its prey acting in this way, already poised for the leap at the anticipated flight, fight or frozen paralysis that it normally encountered. Never before had its intended meal walked slowly and calmly towards it.

The priest saw the confusion in the animal’s face and for a moment he thought he might actually survive the encounter. Then, the Stelcat gave a snarl and its eyes narrowed to slits as it readied itself for the attack.

Variak stopped. He had gone far enough. Relaxing, he readied himself for the fatal blow.

The Stelcat’s expression changed, the scowl turning into something more like a frown as it sniffed the air. From behind Variak there came a loud crashing as something heavy forced its way through the undergrowth.

Bearing its teeth, the Stelcat stared beyond Variak to the source of the sound and roared in anger. The crashing continued unabated as the new threat approached.

Instinctively, Variak turned as his overwhelmingly curious nature impelled him to see what it was that could bring such a reaction in the Stelcat.

Through the trees a piercing blue-white light shone as if the lightning had been somehow harnessed. The glow flickered, azure rays lancing through the gaps between the trees and he realised that the source was moving.

With a final hiss the Stelcat turned and fled leaving Variak to stare expectantly as the forest became brighter and brighter.

Lightning boomed overhead, the trees all around buzzing as the immense bolt of electricity grounded through their metallic cores. Variak barely noticed as he stared in awe as the huge figure strode purposefully towards him.

The titan towered over him and was clad as far as he could tell entirely in metal. From its domed head many eyes bulged and several arms writhed from its sides. The two sturdy legs propelled the bulk forward leaving deep holes in the boggy ground.

Cradled by the thickest arms was a large object like a huge many-faceted crystal as large as Variak’s chest and it was from this that the dazzling light emanated. His eyes hurt as he stared at it, mesmerised by its eerie glow.

Suddenly, he realised that there was something inside the crystal, a shape more hinted at than obvious, as if it were a reflection of something that lay…elsewhere. As the titan walked the apparition within the crystal shifted and changed, altering form subtly.

He tried to make out what it was but his eyes refused to focus on the image and he could only make it out if he glanced at it with his peripheral vision. The shape was indistinct but reminded him of a huge many-segmented worm which terminated with a large bulbous head and he fancied that he could make out two large, dark eyes staring at him.

Am I going mad? he thought. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he dropped back to his knees.

Who are you? he gasped.

The metal figure stopped and its head swivelled in his direction. For a long while it did nothing.

Whooo…. aaarrrr…yooouuu. The voice was impossibly deep and fragmented.

I am Variak the priest. I serve the great God Ozgur.

Variak peered up but the metal figure was silent.

Who do you serve? he asked.

The titan’s head turned again, looking away briefly before returning its eerie gaze back to the penitent priest.

Vaaarriiiakkk. It grated.

The priest started in surprise. What?

Iiii…. seeerrrve…. Vaaariiiakkkk.

Slowly, Variak rose and stood in front of the huge figure. It did nothing apart from watch him.

You serve me?

Yeeessss.

You serve only me?

The titan thought about this for a moment. Isss thaaaat a commmaaanddd?

Variak thought quickly. Yes, you serve only me. You will take commands only from me. Is that clear?

Yeeessss.

It was a struggle for Variak to collect his thoughts as he examined the strange metal creature. The more he looked he could see that the smooth surface was scarred and dented in places. Whatever this thing was it had seen battle and as he walked slowly around it he could see that a wound gaped in its right side though no blood flowed, just more metal and a dark, oily substance.

A small red circle glowed on its chest, throbbing and pulsating like a hot ember in a furnace as the bellows pumped.

Variak’s gaze fell again to the crystal in the titan’s grasp.

What is that which you hold?

From the wound came a blue spark and the creature’s voice became even more broken.

Hyp…hyp…hyper…hyperspacial…an…an.…an…anomaly…worm…. worm…wormhole…

Variak strained to make sense of it.

Hyper…hyper…worm…hyper…worm…hyper…worm…

Hyper-worm? The priest grasped at the words as he stared into the crystal again. His earlier impression was reinforced, it did look worm-like.

From behind came a deep growl and he span around. The Stelcat had returned and was a mere five paces away. Variak gasped, over the howling of the storm he had not heard its return. Clearly the beast had decided that the metal titan was no threat and returned to claim its prey.

No! His heart leapt to his mouth. To die now just as he had made such a remarkable discovery was simply unbearable.

The Stelcat dropped, poising itself to lunge forward. Variak had nowhere to run. The metal titan barred most of the way and if he threw himself to the right or left the beast would easily adjust its pounce.

Save me! he screamed in desperation.

What happened next surprised him as much as the Stelcat. A brilliant blue beam shot out of one of the titan’s snake-like arms, neatly severing the Stelcat’s huge head from its broad shoulders. Even as the head dropped its eyes glowered in hatred and shock.

Variak’s heart thudded in his chest as he turned slowly back to the huge figure, a look of total awe on his face. There was only one explanation, Ozgur had answered his prayers and this was the sign for which he had been waiting, the sign that confirmed his ascension to high priest.

Even though there were now none to question this, he would never have dreamed of assuming the title without such a sign but this titan surpassed even the greatest visitations of legend by Ozgur. Never before had such a boon been granted but never had the brotherhood been faced by such a crisis, their numbers decimated to such an extent.

Ozgur be praised. Variak dropped to his knees again and stared up into the sodden dark. He thanked his God for his life and smiled. His path was now clear.

Your people will be restored to the true faith. He gasped. The unbelievers will suffer for their arrogance. You will not regret the trust you have placed in me.

Standing again he turned to the metal figure.

Titan, for that is what I shall call you, it is my command that you protect me from all dangers. Do you understand?

Yes. The voice was clearer now as if the earlier glitch had somehow cured itself.

Then we will return to the city. Variak’s eyes shone with purpose. It is time to face those that would deny the true religion.

As if waiting for their cue, a distant cry rang out as one of the pursuing mob spotted the glow of the Hyper-Worm.

There is something over here! the voice cried. I see a light and two figures.

Show me! This new gruff voice was familiar to Variak. It was Lean, the muscle-bound side-kick of Grayheme, leader of the new order. The sounds of pursuit increased rapidly as the men approached, the glow of their iron lanterns on the top of their staffs blinking between the trees.

Calmly, Variak stood and waited. He wanted to see the expression on the men as they saw the instrument of their salvation.

Within moments, Lean burst into the small clearing, nearly tripping over the Stelcat carcass in the process. This made him hesitate for a moment before his eyes slowly rose, acknowledging for the first time the presence of Titan. For a moment a look of worry flashed across his features before he composed himself.

Variak allowed himself a faint smile of victory as he allowed the other man to squirm in his discomfort.

Lean was in fact very fat and despite the lashing rain the sweat on him was obvious. Nobody actually knew his real name, Lean had been a nickname he had acquired back in the distant past and it was to that and that alone that he now answered.

Like most of his kind, Lean was a bully and relied on his weight, his aggression and the support of others to wield his power. Now, he was in an uncomfortable situation where new and unexpected elements had been thrown into the mix.

When Variak had been running the hunt had been fun. While the forest bore its own measure of danger, the dead Stelcat case in point, his party had enough weight, Drashounds and swords to ensure their safety so long as they stayed together.

It was a miracle that Variak had not already been taken but the storm had made this the perfect time to venture into the forest and for that Lean was glad. It had meant that he would most likely have the gratification of killing the pious creature himself.

He had not, however, expected to find Variak standing to face him, unarmed yet unconcerned and with a strange metal creature at his side. Lean waggled his sword aimlessly as he handed his staff to another man, the rest of the mob surging into the small clearing behind him.

There were howls of delight as the Drashounds fell on the Stelcat corpse and started to devour it, their handlers unable to prevent their frenzy, not that the presence of Titan meant that their attention was in any way on their charges. To a man they stared forward, the fear painted on their face for all to see.

Lean realised that he was rapidly losing control of the situation.

Variak! he shouted. You have been found guilty of crimes against the people. You will come with us.

I will not. Variak replied quietly and coldly, his soft voice eerily cutting through the deafening roar of the storm.

The big man smiled. This was the response he had been hoping for.

If you will not come with us then you will die here.

Variak did not condescend to respond and simply stood, tall and proud despite his tattered robes, staring at Lean with hard, impassionate eyes, his expression fixed and stony.

The seconds stretched out, punctuated suddenly by another tremendous lightning bolt. Most of the men dropped to the floor and even Lean jumped, cursing when he realised that Variak had not flinched and was simply standing there, his gaze fixed on the portly man.

What is it going to be then? Lean knew the moment he said it that it was a mistake. He had already given the ultimatum and should have either killed the priest or dragged him from where he stood. His inaction was a sign of weakness and the men behind him were becoming audibly restless.

The priest said nothing.

Lean’s eyes flicked from Variak to the huge metal figure, trying to work out what it was. It looked like some kind of statue, for sure it had not moved since they had entered the clearing but it clearly had some significance and what was that in its arms? Lean felt very uncomfortable and knew he had to act swiftly.

Right! he hissed. You were warned. He raised his sword and took a step towards his prey.

As his body pitched forward and the head bounced off into the undergrowth some of the men behind him actually screamed in panic. The crimson beam had shocked them all and at least one of them turned to throw up. The faint whiff of urine also tainted the edge of the wind. Even the Drashounds stopped their feast, their instincts bristling with panic as this new threat presented itself.

Variak allowed their fear to rise for a few moments before speaking.

You stand before the angel of Ozgur. He said quietly. Our God has sent him at this time of crisis to restore the true order of things and to punish the unfaithful. At this he glanced down at the still twitching corpse of Lean before staring back up at the terrified men, a look of deep malice on his face.

I am High Priest Variak, chosen by Ozgur and I give you a simple choice.

He smiled inside as he saw their eyes widening eagerly. Their terror should have reached a peak by this point and they were now ripe for plucking.

You are all guilty of crimes against Ozgur and as such the price of your redemption will be the highest. Your choice is therefore between the agonizing death that you deserve at the hands of Titan…

He allowed their eyes to stare back at the metal figure who dutifully swivelled its head to scan the huddled men, pausing for effect before he continued.

..or you can dedicate your lives to Ozgur’s service in the hope that before you die you will have repaid your debt to him.

Variak needed followers and needed them desperately if he was to restore the faith. Even with Titan at his side one man alone could not run a religion.

Most of the men were known to him and many had once been devout followers of the old faith before Grayheme had seduced them. None had been members of the brotherhood which suited him well. With the temple destroyed he was the only remaining member of the old faith and its customs and credo resided in his memory alone. As High Priest it was his role to perpetuate and interpret the word of his God but in one sense Grayheme was right. The old religion was perhaps a bit stale so now was the time for a little… reinterpretation.

Variak smiled. A new book of the word would be written, one that built from the strengths of the old but incorporated everything that would be needed to raise him to his rightful position as a demigod.

So, choose your path. You all owe your life to Ozgur, those who wish to give it now step forward and face your doom.

Nobody moved.

Then rise and give me your oaths. Variak flourished his hands and as he raised them the men unconsciously rose as well.

From this day forward your lives belong to Ozgur. Swear to him now that you will serve him completely, that you will renounce your past lives and that you will obey his will as interpreted by me without question.

There was a rumbled chorus of we swear.

Variak turned to Titan. If any of the men before you should break the oath they have now given, you will kill them all.

Titan bowed. Understood.

Turning back to his followers, Variak allowed his smile to vanish. Remember this well. Treachery by any of you will result in death for all of you.

The brotherhood had encouraged such behaviour before among the junior acolytes and it had proven most effective at ensuring their devout loyalty. Conspiracies could not breed in an environment where the survival of the group depended on the actions of each of its members.

Warily, the men stared at each other. Where moments before they had been lifelong friends they now regarded their fellows as if they were strangers. Suspicion already hung heavily in the air.

They are mine. Variak thought.

Hear my words! He shouted aloud, hands held high. A lightning bolt struck the canopy just as he did so framing him in its brilliance. We return to the city and to Grayheme, peddler of lies and deceit. He has dared to deny Ozgur and for this he will pay with his life. Then, the temple will be rebuilt, the tributes will start and the people will make reparations for their heresy! Take up your weapons for we march at once.

There were only twenty men but it was enough. With Titan they could not be stopped and it would not take long once Grayheme came to a grisly end for them to consolidate their power.

Gesturing the men to lead the way, Variak turned to Titan.

Follow and remember your primary concern is to guard my life.

Titan lurched forward, the glow of the Hyper-Worm easily lighting their way. Variak stared at the brilliance and knew that somehow he would have to work this new miracle into the doctrine that he would compose. If Titan was the epitome of Ozgur’s strength then the Hyper-Worm was his radiance.

With these two new symbols, no-one would dare contradict him.

Staring up, he realised that the storm was over. The water falling was lighter now, most likely just the residual moisture filtering through the canopy. He smiled. This storm might be passing but for the people a new storm was about to descend and at its heart would be Variak, High Priest of Ozgur.

CHAPTER 1

C ill stared up as the distant rumble of hooves echoed from the valley below. Peering into the sunset he could just make out the rising dust that indicated where the riders were, on the main road between Chelham and Marlash.

Priests! he thought. They were early, too early to be collecting the tributes that the temple demanded.

What are you looking at? Senya stepped over, trying to follow his line of sight.

Down there in the valley. Cill pointed. I see riders. Priests I would say.

She stared towards the spot he indicated. I see the dust but I cannot make out the riders. Turning to him she smiled. Your eyes are better than mine.

The smile dropped as she stared back down across the wide expanse of fields. What do you think they want?

Shaking his head, Cill strained his eyes to see if he could make out any further details. I have no idea but it cannot be good.

The harvest was still a few weeks away and then the priests would come in convoy, filling the roads with carts and beasts of burden to take the bulk of their produce away. With each season the demands became greater and greater as the power of the temple increased. Already the tribute required left the people with barely enough to survive and any increase on the levy would mean they would starve.

It was no use trying to