“Drud, this is not the time, nor the place!”
“I decide the time and the place”, roared the giant and with uncanny speed closed the distance separating him from our group. The Haillar guide accompanying the Scourge tried to stop him but was thrown aside like so much rubble, collapsing unconscious next to the wall. Behind us, Faurist decided discretion is the better part of valour and made himself scarce in the opposite direction. I couldn’t blame the elderly diplomat, as he was obviously not a fighter and probably already on his way to bring in help.
I was expecting an altercation with our officers, but that wasn’t the case. The enraged alien stopped a couple of paces in front of Koslowski and stretched his hand as if grasping for something. The human went slack, like a puppet whose strings were cut, and seemed to be standing only supported by the Scourge’s will.
I was frozen, having no clue what to do. Tim Morris didn’t hesitate for a second to defend his superior officer. With a fluid gesture ingrained by years of training, he drew his gun and promptly put two rounds in the Scourge warlord’s centre of mass. Or at least tried to.
Even before hitting the armour, the bullets met some sort of invisible field and ricocheted in the crystal walls with resonant pings. The alien’s outfit was all for show, while he seemed to be protected by some sort of invisible field, the way the Scourge ships we’ve seen at Aldeea were shielded against the initial Haillar attacks.
Realising the futility of shooting, Sergeant Morris reverted to the only available course of action. While avoiding the wicked curves protruding from the enemy’s armour, he tackled the Scourge in a move borrowed from the rugby pitch.
Despite Morris’ considerable bulk, he might as well tried to tackle a tree.
Non-plussed by this attack, the same way he was unaffected by the earlier shots, the warlord brought his hand down in a lightning-fast strike landing at the back of Morris' head. The Sargent lost his grip and fell to the ground, surprisingly still conscious though dazed.
Further back, the male bodyguard made a gesture to intervene. The elegantly dressed Scourge spoke in a sharp tone.
“Leave him! This is Drud’s fight, and it’s up to him to finish it!”
The bodyguard stopped for a moment, then ignored the order continuing forward and pushing aside the hand trying to stop him. With a casual, almost bored gesture, the cloaked Scourge envoy produced a trident-like weapon out of thin air, flicked it once in a movement impossible to follow and made it disappear as quickly as he summoned it. The offending bodyguard took one more step and collapsed in a heap, his throat a bloody ruin.
The female trooper watched all this impassively, without moving an inch.
This entire background drama happened in less than three seconds, while Drud was finally letting Koslowsky unconscious body go, turning his attention toward Tim Morris. The warlord didn’t even seem to notice his bodyguard being callously dispatched, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care.
Confused and with blood all over his face, the Sargent stood on unsteady legs, trying to assume a defensive posture. I watched his slow-motion movements in horror, for I couldn’t see any way he can survive this fight or anything we can do to stop it.
The Scourge took his time, approaching with slow movements like a cat playing with its prey. Out of options, Morris could only find the time to draw a blade concealed in one of his sleeves, a pitiful weapon against his bullet impervious adversary.
There was no fight.
Stopping in front of the human, the Scourge raised his hand, the same way he did when facing Koslowski. I saw Morris freezing, and this time around as he was facing us, I could see his eyes wide open in helpless fury, his mind still there but unable to move a muscle.
With the same fluid movements too fast to follow, the alien monster materialised some kind of short spear looking like an African assegai and plunged it in the chest of his victim. I saw Morris eyes glazing, his features already slack under the Scourge control. I saw him dying like a slaughtered sheep, unable to move, helpless to defend himself. I saw the Scourge’s glee, and I hated him, as I never hated anything and anyone before.
The murderer smiled contently and turned to the rest of us, his bloody assegai still in hand. I hoped against hope the other aliens may try to stop him, but apparently the richly clad lord was happy to stand aside and let this massacre unfold. The Scourge woman was following the scene with dilated eyes, like a drug addict eager for his fix.
All remaining five of us fanned sideways, trying to delay the inevitable. The Scourge would have to work his way through each of us unless his mind control could affect our entire group at once.
The giant took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks. Two twin spears of … nothingness collided with his shield and apparently managed to do what Morris’ tackle couldn’t. Rock the murderer backward on his heels.
“You dare!” shouted an angry woman voice behind us.
The Scourge’s face lit with a smug smile if anything even more repulsive than his joy following Morris’ death.
“At last, Destroyer! I was hoping to come across you, weakened as you are in this spineless body. I guess now we’ll truly see your mettle, you ageless bitch.”
I turned to watch Elizabeth standing at the other end of the catwalk, eyes blazing with fury, features twisted in a scowl no less terrifying than the Scourge’s grin.
The Scourge raised his hand towards her in an imperious gesture, and I had a moment of panic realising that trapped in a human body the Chaos Queen may be susceptible to the same type of mind control as any of us. I shouldn’t have worried.
Elizabeth seemed to flicker away from reality and re-emerged in front of us, a few feet away from Drud.
“Guess again.”
A cloud of shifting colour seemed to form around the Scourge. His shield started to flicker as if attacked by a swarm of angry insects and fizzled a moment after. His two companions took a step back in haste.
The cloud eroded the warlord armour in no time. The giant’s face twisted in a silent scream, yet no sound emerged from his decaying lungs. His features decomposed in a colourless smoke along with the rest of his body. A loud bang reverberated from the crystal walls of the corridor.
I’ve never seen the Chaos queen fighting, and she was a sight to behold. Hers was the face of an avenging angel, beautiful and terrible, her eyes burning with the fires of heaven, her golden hair a halo of light. I’ve witnessed her power on Aldeea when she ambushed the Scourge siege force, but only from far away, while blinded by grief. Here, in the confines of this suspended passage, her fight did not amount to titanic blows, but nevertheless, it was vicious, close and personal. For all our talks, for all her confessions, I hadn’t realised until this very moment, what being a Haillar queen really meant. I understood it now, beyond words, beyond explanations, in a visceral way only a close encounter with death can make you understand.
She was the ultimate protector, with the power of all the universe at her fingertips. She was the Destroyer in defence of her people, as rightly named so by the Scourge. She was a goddess and a demon at the same time, one side inseparable from the other.
Without needing any encouragement, Charles moved next to Koslowsky and kneeled above his prone body. Sargent Morris was most definitely dead, beyond any need of medical care.
“His breathing is shallow but constant. He may be hurt, but I think he’ll live.”
I caught the malicious glint in the eyes of the female bodyguard and had a sick feeling that the Navy officer was doomed, no matter his physical condition.
My musings were cut short by a cry from the other end of the corridor.
“Ashar, what happened here? I could feel you pull Chaos from the Council chambers.”
The newcomer was yet another striking Haillar, presumably another queen. A few days ago, when meeting Reith Sen’Dorien, we thought her to be all formal and adorned, unlike Ellandra. Aside from her diminutive size, the woman entering the corridor behind the remai
ning Scourge was the embodiment of the Earth’s ancient Winter Queen tale. Her face and ice-blue eyes were framed by a cascade of white hair with light blue tips, matching her facial patterns. Her robe was truly regal, so blindingly white it was almost luminous. If Faurist’s tutoring was correct, her appearance and reference to the Council were probably making her Favriel Sen’Galahad, the Frost Mistress.
Immediately behind her, a third Scourge warlord loomed accompanied by his customary bodyguard. The third envoy who was probably in a meeting with this Council queen at the time of the attack.
“A crime and its just retribution” responded Elizabeth.
“Who killed Hrund, and where is Ship Master Drud?”, asked the newly arrived Scourge in a brisk tone pointing to the dead bodyguard. Obviously, the fallen human bodies didn’t deserve any consideration.
“I killed the verlan, and Drud had a meeting with the Destroyer”, responded the richly dressed warlord with a congenial smile.
The arrogance on the face of the newcomer faded for a moment, replaced by something suspiciously similar to fear. Yet the Scourge recovered immediately and cast a venomous glance towards Elizabeth.
“The Chaos Wielder! I should have imagined you’ll do your best to disrupt these talks. Your spite for the people of Jael is only matched by your madness, o broken one.”
Elizabeth was fixing the envoy with a burning glare that didn’t do anything to dispel his baseless accusations.
“Humans were also killed,” intervened the Frost Queen. “We need to understand how this hostile act happened in the first place.”
“Humans are cattle of no consequence”, responded the Scourge. “They are outside your Wall, so they belong to the people of Jael to do as we please. Yet one of my lords was killed, and one of you is responsible. There must be retribution, or these peace talks end here and now.”
CHAPTER 19 (ELIZABETH)
The stink of Scourge corruption hits me like a hammer blow. Someone is using mind control, somewhere really, really close.
I’m just exiting the Dorien tower taking the path towards the Council rooms when I double down, physically ill. It’s not the lingering evil I felt when dealing with the dwelkaar, the Scourge assassin drones, it’s the acute sickness that comes from an active attempt to take over somebody else’s mind, here and now.
With no time to lose, I forget about propriety, and I take off towards the source of the decay, somewhere ahead on the suspended passageways. I climb the stairs running, struggling with my inadequate attire. Instead of trousers, I wear a straight robe, an appropriate dress for a social visit but utterly unfit for physical activities. I trip in my slippers, throw them away and continue barefooted.
Ahead of me, people throw themselves left and right to avoid the racing giant with crazy eyes and billowing golden hair. Luckily this close to our House administrative centre, most of them know about me even if they haven’t met yet with my new avatar.
I almost stumble over the elderly diplomat who escorted the humans to our house a couple of days ago.
“My Lady, the Scourge!”
“How many?”
“Four, two lords and two verlan bodyguards. They’ve already enslaved one or two humans.”
I swear a curse I wasn’t even aware I knew, and move on. A couple of loud bangs echo in the archway ahead. Gunshots!
I enter the catwalk and come across the scene I feared all along. Two of the humans are already down, Koslowski and Morris, the gentle guard. I see one of the Scourge, the giant with wicked-looking armour, about to hit Christine with a mind control wave. With no time to think I throw my hands in front of me, projecting two thin spears of chaos. Maybe not the best aspect to use at close quarters, but for me the handiest. At least I have the presence of spirit to keep the beams weak and tightly focussed, for a wider eka shaft would have obliterated the entire passageway. The Scourge stumbles back under the blast, but his shield holds.
“You dare!” I growl, with a voice I don’t recognise myself.
The warlord turns towards me. I notice the other two Scourge standing in the background apparently content to watch, while a fourth one is down, already dead.
The Scourge giant smiles with great satisfaction, and I suddenly realise this is not just an ambush planned against the humans, but a test for me as well. The bastards think I may be vulnerable in this state.
“At last, Destroyer! I was hoping to come across you, weakened as you are in this spineless body. I guess now we’ll truly see your mettle, you ageless bitch.”
With a wave of his hand, the giant directs his corruption waves towards me. This close the sickness is unbearable, as I feel it crawling on my skin and trying to enter my mind. During millennia of war, I’ve never been at a receiving end of a close-quarters mind control attempt, and my first taste of it is worse than I could have imagined. Yet the control wave passes over me, and I’m left standing, defiant and in total control of my body and mind.
I port across the corridor in no time. Opening a portal within line of sight is a trivial reflex. I’m standing three paces away of the Scourge, a little bit to the right to avoid another blast from his outstretched hand. His companions take a step back, watching the scene with eager eyes but apparently unwilling to intervene. Too bad, I wouldn’t have minded dealing with their entire lot.
I project a cloud of Chaos, keeping it confined around the Scourge.
“Guess again.”
The cloud is packed in a small volume but quite dense, eating through the Scourge’s shield and armour in no time. With a last conscious thought, the thug attempts to redirect his taint aiming for Christine, the closest human. In response, I push the Chaos up, through his eyes and into his brain, ending his last murder attempt before it even starts. Moments later the warlord disintegrates in sub-atomic constituents, the energy released hitting my containing field with the force of an exploding reactor. The atom-thick field vibrates with a loud bang but holds true.
Everybody stays still for a long moment.
Eventually, Charles is the one breaking the spell, as his steps around Morris’s lifeless body and crouches next to Koslowski. The other four humans stagger to support each other but look to be still in shock.
“His breathing is shallow but constant. He may be hurt, but I think he’ll live.”
I’m well aware that the people who were mind-wiped by the Scourge can live for a while, but never regain their mental faculties. Right now, so soon after the shock of coming against the Scourge, so soon after Morris’ death, I don’t want to be the one telling my human friends that yet another one of them is gone, that the kindest thing for Koslowski would be to never wake up again.
With the corner of my eye, I see Favriel and the Scourge leader arriving. Despite the attack being clearly staged, I fully expect the Scourge lord to feign ignorance and outrage and try to make the best of this debacle.
“Ashar, what happened here? I could feel you pull Chaos from the Council chambers.”
“A crime and its just retribution”, I respond.
There is no need to enter in any details, the ambush scene speaks for itself. Favriel knows that I was bound to protect my wards, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the warlord had planned everything, if not the demise of his minion.
“Who killed Hrund, and where is Ship Master Drud?”
I fully expected the humans to get the blame for defending themselves but to my surprise, Hagan, the third envoy, steps in:
“I killed the verlan, and Drud had a meeting with the Destroyer.”
There was clearly no love lost between Hagan and the departed Drud, yet I wouldn’t have expected the foppish warlord to intercede on behalf of my friends. Far from being at ease with this, I’m even more suspicious. The Scourge never do something unless they stand to gain out of it.
From here on, the charade continues fully as expected:
“The Chaos Wielder! I should have imagined you’ll do your best to disrupt these talks. Your spite for the people of Jael is
only matched by your madness, o broken one.”
I hate the Scourge from the bottom of my heart, and I have never made a secret out of it. Yet neither Favriel nor the rest of the Council would buy this line, not with the human deaths and Hagan’s half admission.
“Humans were also killed”, responds the Frost Lady immediately. “We need to understand how this hostile act happened in the first place.”
“Humans are cattle of no consequence. They are outside your Wall, so they belong to the people of Jael to do as we please. Yet one of my lords was killed, and one of you is responsible. There must be retribution, or these peace talks end here and now.”
✽✽✽
I was wrong thinking that the Scourge need to act directly against Earth to sow trouble on Tao Bellona. They look quite capable of doing it with only a handful of envoys and their thinly veiled threats.
We are standing in the hall reserved for Council hearings, in a set up looking too much like a trial for my taste. The queens are in their customary seats, accompanied by their advisors, the Scourge group on one side and I on the other, alone.
It isn’t a trial of course, for there is no crime, at least not against the Scourge. Yet, I can’t stop noticing there isn’t even a historical precedent for judging one of us. The power-mad eka wielders never faced trial, they usually tended to go down in flames.
Nevertheless, Garvald apparently believes he is in a court of law and has just finished a litany of charges against me going back to the start of the war, twenty thousand cycles ago. Before this farce, I wasn’t aware that the art of litigation is so popular with the Scourge, for I was convinced that a knife in the back is their usual way of settling any dispute. I also wasn’t aware of their record-keeping skills, nor of my status as Scourge public enemy number one. On a serious note, this level of preparation is one more proof, if proof was needed, that this entire incident was planned, for some ulterior motive yet to be determined.
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