Fury of a Demon

by Brian Naslund

“Did the governor put up much of a fuss?”

  The governor had never known that Vera was in his room before she killed him.

  “Forget the governor of Kushal-Kin. The story. The woman.”

  Osyrus waved a hand in the air. “She gave the child a tincture to reduce the inflammation. He’d have been walking inside of a week without it, all she did was speed things up a little. That happens all the time. It’s not the same situation we’re dealing with right now.”

  “I want Kira off these machines. I want it done now.”

  “You are forgetting that the risks of rushing are extremely high. Kira could transform at any time.”

  Ward had explained the affliction of people like Kira and Silas to her several days after her injury. Vera suspected that he was making the entire thing up—a person turning into a tree seemed impossible—but these days the world was full of things that seemed impossible but weren’t.

  Vera couldn’t risk Kira’s life if Ward was telling the truth.

  “Silas took thousands of injuries and never transformed,” Vera said.

  “Again with this? Kira is not the same person as her brother. Silas Bershad was born with an innate resilience to the change, and he showed a remarkably positive reaction to my suppression tonic. When he was under my care in Burz-al-dun, I gave him a single injection, which allowed me to perform several extremely aggressive treatments without a whiff of the change. Kira does not share her brother’s resilience. Even with the tiny, iterative steps I am currently taking, she requires an extremely strong suppression cocktail to be in her bloodstream at all times to avoid the change.” He pointed to a tube that was connected to Kira’s left wrist. “If I stop that drip, mark my words, Kira will turn into a tree. The only way forward is with slow, careful work.”

  Osyrus had made the same threat about Kira—and the same irritating declaration about a path forward—six months ago. The reason that Vera had agreed to fly across the realm on his behalf was because she did not believe him, but needed proof.

  There had to be a faster way. Ward just had no incentive to try it. He maintained too much power while she was incapacitated.

  “If you cannot heal her quickly, I will find someone who can,” Vera said.

  Ward’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? And who might this unimaginably qualified person be? That old woman from the hinterlands?”

  “I’ve been making other inquiries,” Vera said. “Talking to alchemists.”

  “Alchemists,” Osyrus repeated with disdain. “All they have done is waste the last few centuries mixing herbs that compel coin from people’s pockets in exchange for a stronger erection. Trust me, there is no herb poultice that can regrow a spinal column. The alchemists cannot help us.”

  “What about Gods Moss?” Vera asked.

  Osyrus stopped fiddling with the machines and looked at her.

  “Where did you hear about that?” he asked, voice flat.

  “As I said, I have been making inquiries.”

  “Inquiries,” Ward repeated. “What kind of inquiries?”

  Vera had questioned five alchemists about Seeds before one of them finally told her about the existence of Gods Moss, and that was only because she’d put Kaisha into his mouth, and threatened to fillet his cheek.

  “The kind that gets answers.”

  She hadn’t learned much from him, just that Gods Moss triggered an extremely powerful reaction in Seeds, and that it was incredibly rare. The alchemist had never seen any himself.

  “Now, I repeat, what would happen if we used Gods Moss on Kira?”

  Ward gave that some thought, twisting a strand of beard into a braid and releasing it. “There would be a reaction, of course. If the moss was administered orally, Kira would most likely regain the ability to speak and breathe on her own. But given the amount of suppression fluid that was required to keep Kira in her human state, the result would be temporary. Five, ten minutes at most. Then we would be right back where we are now.”

  When he saw Vera’s skepticism, he softened his tone.

  “You see, Gods Moss is a potent but blunt instrument. Kira’s injury—and her condition in general—is far more complex. Thus, it requires a complex and slow solution.”

  “I would like to keep searching for something that works faster.”

  He shrugged. “If you must.”

  “Good. I’ll return to Pargos first.”

  “Again? Why? You didn’t find anything the first time.”

  After Kira had remained on Ward’s machine for the first month, Vera had insisted on traveling to the Alchemist Archives in Pargos to look for a faster method of healing her. All that she’d found was a massive building filled with plant identifications, soil samples, and insect categorizations.

  “I do not believe that those archives are the only place where the alchemists keep records. There was nothing about dragons or Seeds. Nothing about moss. The main archive in the capital is famous, but I’ve heard rumors of more secret enclaves that are hidden in smaller villages throughout the country. I plan to find them. There might be some Gods Moss there.”

  “As I said, a temporary solution.”

  “Temporary is still valuable. I’m going to Pargos.”

  “Not possible,” Osyrus said quickly. “I sent you to Lysteria because there was unrest. Pargos has put up no real resistance to us, so there is no reason for you to go there. However, there are reports of unrest in the northern mining towns of Balaria. A very delicate situation, seeing as those mines produce all our silver and nickel. Things are a mess, Vera! I simply cannot afford to have you wandering around Pargos looking for imaginary enclaves while Kira’s empire endures such strain. You can go back to Pargos the moment another one of their governors decides to rebel.”

  Osyrus hadn’t mentioned any unrest until she mentioned Pargos. Now, suddenly, she was needed everywhere else except there. He did not want her going to Pargos. Good to know.

  Vera decided that she’d pushed him enough for now. She got what she needed.

  She forced her lip to quiver and her face to turn red. Drew a breath and made a show of slowly letting it out, then spoke with a weak voice.

  “I just want her back. I … miss her so much. If we keep on going as we have, with the cultures and tonics and therapies…” Vera said, putting a little strain and pitiful hope in her voice, “do you truly believe that Ki will recover with time, and breathe on her own?”

  Osyrus gave his best attempt at a comforting smile, and patted her hand with his own. It took a large amount of Vera’s self-control to avoid shuddering at the feeling of his bony knuckles against her skin.

  “I do,” he said. “Truly.”

  Vera could tell that Ward was doing his best to make that last word sound sincere. He did a decent job.

  “Then we’ll continue this way,” Vera whispered.

  “A wise choice,” said Ward. He looked at the clock. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is an injured Wormwrot private who I must prep for the acolyte surgery. He is the only surviving member of a vanquished patrol in which another one of my war acolytes was killed. I am interested to discover how the Jaguars are continuing to destroy my creations, despite the countermeasures I installed last spring. Perhaps they’ve found a loophole.”

  Vera nodded. “Would it be all right if I stayed with Kira a bit longer? I have missed her.”

  “Of course, Vera. Of course.”

  * * *

  As soon as Vera was alone with Kira, she reached behind her breastplate and removed an egg-sized lump of cloth. She pulled the cloth back to reveal a chunk of moss with deep green tendrils and blue flowers that smelled of honey and loam.

  Gods Moss.

  She’d put a blade in some grayrobe’s mouth to learn what the moss did to Seeds. To actually get some, she had done something far worse, but she didn’t care. A blackened conscience was a small price to pay if it saved Kira’s life.

  Vera knelt by Kira and carefully placed the clump of moss in her mouth. Some of th
e reflexes in her throat still worked, so Vera only had to massage her throat to make her swallow.

  The speed with which her skin changed tones surprised Vera. A few breaths was all it took for the clammy, pale skin to turn pink with healthy color. Kira’s turquoise eyes opened a moment later, pupils adjusting to the light in the room.

  “Kira?” Vera asked, her body flooding with relief. “Ki. Can you hear me?”

  Kira swallowed with a great deal of effort. “Where am I? What’s…” Her hand moved to her stomach. Running along the scar there. “Am I dead?”

  “No, You’re safe, Ki. Osyrus saved your life. But you’re very badly hurt. We’re trying to heal you, but there have been complications. We may only have a few minutes to speak before you have to go back to sleep.”

  Vera looked at the tubes in her chest. Part of her was tempted to unhook them and make a run for it, but that enormous acolyte was still outside, and if Osyrus was telling the truth about the effect only being temporary, she needed to leave her on the machine for now.

  “I can’t move my legs,” Kira said. “I can’t feel them at all.”

  “That won’t be permanent,” Vera said quickly, needing to convince herself just as much as she wanted to convince Kira.

  “I remember the blade,” Ki said. “The woman who attacked me … she was a Papyrian.”

  “Empress Okinu betrayed us,” Vera said. “She sent a widow named Shoshone to assassinate you.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I killed her.”

  Kira nodded. “How long have I been asleep?”

  Vera swallowed. Given all the information she was about to absorb, Vera’s instinct was to lie to Kira, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Six months.”

  Kira’s eyes widened with panic, but she regained her composure with a quickness that both surprised and impressed Vera. “And what’s happened since then?”

  Vera did her best to explain the situation. Told her how Osyrus had conquered almost all of Terra within a fortnight. Mostly without violence, but that he’d used his acolytes when it was required. She glossed over the bombing of Papyria, saying only that the empress had paid for her betrayal.

  “The Dainwood are the last unconquered province in Terra,” she said. “Between the jungle canopy and the dragons, the Jaguar wardens are protected from the skyships.”

  “Is Carlyle Llayawin leading them?” Kira asked.

  Kira had just made peace with Carlyle before the assassination attempt turned everything sour. Carlyle had been killed, but Vera didn’t have the heart to tell Kira that. She had enough to absorb.

  “I’m not sure,” said Vera. “Reliable information is hard to pluck from the Dainwood.”

  “I see.” Ki paused, thinking. Then her nose scrunched up and she gave Vera a little scowl. “Oh. Vera. You smell really bad.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She leaned back a little. Realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper bath. “I’ve been busy. Haven’t bathed in a while.”

  “The only thing more powerful than your body odor is the smell of that pipe. Ugh.”

  “Smoking helps me relax.”

  “You only need to relax after a fight.”

  Vera shrugged.

  “What does Osyrus Ward have you doing? Tell me the truth.”

  Vera let out a slow breath before answering. “I have been traveling on behalf of your empire.”

  “My sister told me once that there is only one reason for a widow to travel.”

  “That’s … not the only thing that I’m doing. I’ve been looking for a way to heal you myself. The only reason we’re speaking now is because of something I brought back.”

  “But what have you done?” Kira asked, struggling to put emphasis on the final word. The Gods Moss must be wearing off.

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does, Vera. I don’t want you to darken your honor because of me.”

  “I don’t care about my honor anymore.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t abandon yourself for me. If the war is as terrible as you say, there must be people suffering all over Terra. You must try to find a way to help them. Keep them safe.”

  “The only way for me to help them is to kill Osyrus Ward. And I can’t do that until you’re off this machine and safe.”

  “Yes, you can. I’m just one person.”

  “Not to me,” Vera said. She swallowed. Felt her emotions finally overwhelm her. “To me, you’re the only person who matters. Do you understand, Kira? I … I…”

  She trailed off, still unable to get the words out, after all this time.

  “I understand, Vera.” Her voice was weak. Strained. “I feel the same.”

  Vera wiped a tear away from her cheek. Nodded.

  “I’ve caused so much trouble. For my family. For the people of Terra.”

  “There was always going to be trouble.”

  “Still,” Kira said. “I have so many regrets.”

  “Do you know what I regret most, Ki?”

  She shook her head.

  “Last winter, when you asked me to go for a ride with you alone on the Sparrow, I wish that I’d said yes. And I wish we had left the feasting hall that moment and gone. Just us, away from all this mess.” Vera touched Kira’s cheek, moved her hand around to the base of her neck and rubbed it a little. She felt a swelling of emotion in her throat and her chest and belly that threatened to overwhelm her even more than she already was. “We’re trapped in the mess now, but I am going to get us out of it. You will walk out of this room on your own feet, I promise you.”

  Kira nodded. “I can feel my lungs going weak. There isn’t much time left.” She swallowed with great effort. “So I have to ask you a very important question.”

  “Anything.”

  “What did you eat for breakfast this morning?”

  “That’s your important question?”

  “I want to hear about you. Just regular things about you.”

  Vera hesitated. The last thing she’d eaten was a cold meat bun hastily stuffed in her mouth before she and Garret had left the Blue Sparrow to coerce Garwin. The bread had been old and hard, the meat gray and lacking flavor. But she understood what Kira needed.

  “A steamed pork bun,” Vera said. “Made fresh from the Floodhaven kitchen and brought to me in bed by one of your servants.”

  Kira gave a weak smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “No, it’s true,” Vera said, smiling back. “With you having been indisposed for so long, I’ve moved into your chambers and taken over your staff. I insist on a pork bun brought in on a silver platter to start my day. From there, it’s a pudding and fish course, followed by a fresh soup. Then two women rub my feet for twenty minutes before I dress and start my day of leisure.”

  Kira smiled a little wider, but it soon faded. Her breaths turned ragged and hoarse. The color in her cheeks started to fade.

  Vera looked into her eyes, trying to burn the color and the shape into her memory.

  “Close your eyes,” she said. “The machine will take over.”

  Kira did as she was told. Drifted away, back to darkness.

  Vera stayed in the room until her body stopped trembling, which took a very long time.

  On her way down the tower, Vera tried to think about how she was going to get back to Pargos. It wouldn’t be easy, but there had to be a way.

  7

  PRIVATE RIGAR

  Location Unknown

  Rigar awoke in darkness. It was cold. His body felt bloated, but also tight. Muscles rigid and unmoving.

  “Specimen Seven-Nine-Nine is conscious,” someone said in Balarian. He had a nasally voice.

  “Excellent,” came another voice. This one was deeper. “We’ll perform baseline conditioning, then move to the debrief.”

  The sound of movement. Footsteps. Moving closer.

  “What is your name?” asked the man with the deeper voice.

  Rigar
’s face muscles warmed, then slackened. Fell into his control.

  “Ri-Rigar.”

  “False.”

  There was a click, followed by a buzz, then a massive surge of pain through his body. The worst pain Rigar had ever felt—like his whole body was a tooth and someone was jamming an ice pick into it. He howled. Tried to thrash, but his body was locked down. Not his own.

  “What is your name?” the voice repeated.

  “Please. I don’t understand.”

  The last thing he remembered was falling down a muddy slope in the jungle. He’d been so thirsty. So tired. And then a shadow had fallen over him.

  “The question is very simple. What is your name? A name is an identifier. In your case, it is a sequence of numbers. What are those numbers?”

  “I don’t have a number. My name is R—”

  “False.”

  Another shock. Worse than before. Longer.

  “Think. Remember. What is your number?”

  Rigar wracked his brain. Tried to remember.

  “Does it start with a seven?”

  “True. The rest, please.”

  “Seven.” He hesitated. “Eight.”

  “False.”

  More pain.

  “Try again, please.

  “Seven. Nine?”

  Rigar waited for the pain. When he did not feel any, he prayed to Aeternita, then continued.

  “Nine.”

  “True,” came the voice.

  Rigar had never felt more relieved in his life. But that relief was short-lived, because if he had a number, there was only one thing that could have happened.

  “Wait,” he said. “Wait. Wait. Wait. Am I … what have you turned me into?”

  “Please refrain from inquiries during your conditioning process. Now. Who is your master?”

  “Master?”

  “Yes. Identify your master.”

  “Uh, Sergeant Droll?”

  “False.”

  Pain. Such deep, terrible pain.

  “Who is your master?” the voice repeated.

  “C-Commander Vergun.”

  “False.”

  More pain. Why didn’t it kill him? Why wasn’t he turned to ash?

  “Who is your master?”