by J B Drake
Then, he turned his gaze to those unlucky few who had sought to flee deeper into the woods. With a sneer, the little boy took a step forward, and another, and another, and within the blink of an eye, was amongst the fleeing sellswords, his blades singing their verse anew. With renewed desperation, the remaining sellswords sought to fight for their lives, to overcome this damnable creature within their midst, but it was all for naught. And before long all that remained were corpses.
Save one.
With her breath coming in snatches, Larine watched as the child rose from the slaughter. In the chaos of the battle, the terrified woman had crawled to a nearby tree, a tree upon which her terror had held her fast. It was upon this tree that she had watched as their prey, a young child, had butchered her sellswords. And now, as an eerie calm fell upon the woods, the little boy turned his gaze upon her, and as his eyes bore into her, the azure glow seeming to lend his stare unearthly weight, Larine felt her self-control threatening to leave her.
Smiling, the boy turned to face Larine square before taking a step forward, then another, and then another, and as Larine blinked, the boy appeared before her. It was then that all self-control finally left her, her heart sinking to new depths as the numbing grip of her impending demise took hold. But even as she cowered from the child, her desire to live towered above her fear, and as tears streamed down her face, Larine clasped her hands before her and pleaded for her life.
“You got to make her talk Ani, you got to!”
Standing tall, Anieszirel stared at the pleading, simpering woman before her. She could smell the woman’s fear, even above the woman’s stench. It would be a trivial thing to maker her talk, to make her share her innermost secrets. But anything this woman shared in her current state would be near-incoherent babbling. No, she needed more than that, and so she needed the woman calmed.
“Tip, I need you to trust me again,” she thought to Tip as the glow about her eyes dissipated.
“But—”
“We will rescue Marshalla, upon my honour, but you must trust me, you must trust my methods however much you may disagree with them. Can you do that?”
Silence greeted her.
“Can you do that, Tip?”
“Yes…” Tip replied at last.
Nodding, Anieszirel took a deep breath and smiled before going down upon her knees, where she remained as she waited patiently for the woman to cease her pleading.
“Greetings,” she said once the woman fell silent.
In response, the cowering woman held Anieszirel in a confused stare, which merely served to widen Anieszirel’s smile.
“You have questions.”
The woman stared at Anieszirel for a spell before slowly shaking her head.
Anieszirel frowned. “No?”
Again, the woman shook her head. This, Anieszirel did not expect.
“Then, you know who I am.”
The woman nodded. “You’re the Kin-Slayer.”
Anieszirel forced a smile. “That I am. What’s your name?”
In response, the woman looked past Anieszirel before looking back at her.
“Please don’t kill me,” was all she said.
Anieszirel shook her head. “I have no intention of killing you, my dear, you pose no threat to me.”
A tense silence fell upon the pair as the woman stared in confusion before at last, she sat up against the tree, her rising hope lending her strength.
“You’ll let me go?”
Anieszirel nodded.
“Just like that?”
Anieszirel shrugged. “Well, it’s not like anyone’s going to believe you. When I leave here, there will be no bodies for anyone to find, no blood or weaponry for anyone to see. Should you tell anyone what happened, they’ll just think you’ve lost your mind.”
Frowning, the woman looked past Anieszirel once more before returning her gaze to the kneeling chronodragon. “All of them?”
Anieszirel smiled. “Believe me, I’ve had practice.”
As the woman’s gaze wandered past Anieszirel once more, the chronodragon stared intently at her till she saw the barest traces of wonder upon the woman’s face.
“There is something I need your help with, though,” she said.
“Oh?” the woman replied as she turned back to Anieszirel.
Anieszirel nodded. “I need to find my friend. Do you know where she is?”
Shaking her head, the woman lowered her gaze.
“You’re lying,” Anieszirel said with the barest traces of scorn.
Startled, the woman looked up at Anieszirel.
“I swear, I don’t know anything!”
“My dear, I have shown you nothing but the utmost respect. Is it too much to ask the same from you?”
“But I don’t know anything! I swear, upon my honour!”
“Do you know who’s guarding her?”
The woman shook her head. “I don’t know where she is! I’m just a sellsword, nothing more!”
“Who hired you, then?”
The woman fell silent.
“Do you at least know where I can find Thalas and the others?”
Once more, the woman shook her head.
Sighing, Anieszirel sat back on her knees. “Fine, you may go.”
“Ani!” Tip screamed as the woman stared at Anieszirel dumbfounded.
“Go on!”
The woman stared for a spell longer, but soon scrambled to her feet. As she rose, however, Anieszirel sprung at her, clasping her neck with one hand while placing the other upon the woman’s skull, slamming her head against the tree behind her. Startled, the woman squirmed, but it was all for naught, and as Anieszirel held her fast against the tree, the sneering chronodragon forged a mental bond with the woman, a bond that allowed the chronodragon to read the woman’s freshest thoughts, thoughts that would’ve been formed by the questions Anieszirel had asked.
At last, Anieszirel let the woman go, and once freed, the woman cowered anew.
“You lied to me, Larine,” Anieszirel sneered as she stood tall. “And here I thought Thalas was the one in charge of this little trap you all sprang.”
Larine did not answer. Instead, she kept her gaze upon the grass before her.
“We don’t need her anymore, Ani,” Tip pleaded. “We know where Marsha is. Let’s just go!”
Tip was right of course, they did know where Marshalla was, but what he had failed to see was how fraught with danger rescuing Marshalla would be. Not so much danger for her, or for Tip, but for Marshalla, for there were simply too many guards around her, all with clear orders to kill her should any troubles arise. No, they needed a way past the guards, a way to get safely to Marshalla’s side, and for that reason, they needed Larine, an obedient Larine, one who wouldn’t raise the alarm till it was far too late.
“You’re not going to let me live, are you?” Larine whimpered, drawing Anieszirel from her thoughts.
Then, at that moment, Anieszirel knew just how to ensure Larine’s obedience.
“Oh, but I am,” Anieszirel replied in a voice that drew Larine’s gaze from the grass and sent shivers racing up and down her spine, shivers that gathered in strength the moment her gaze fell upon the smile upon Anieszirel’s lips.
With her smile growing, Anieszirel clasped both hands about Larine’s face.
“You’re going to live, my dear,” she said as she knelt upon Larine’s thighs, “though you’re going to wish I had killed you.” And as Anieszirel held Larine against the tree one last time, the chronodragon’s eyes began glowing once more.
Breathing through clenched teeth, Thalas fought to ignore the stabbing pain in his side as darkness clawed at the edges of his vision.
“Get up, Thalas,” Thane sneered.
Swallowing hard, Thalas looked down at his reddened hand, a hand that had borne the full brunt of one of Eldred’s lightning spells. Slowly, he clenched it as he whispered words of arcane, words that stole the biting pain from his clenched fist.
&n
bsp; “I said get up!”
Turning, Thalas glared at the hulking elf stood behind him. With his other hand outstretched behind him, and his gaze upon Thane still, Thalas pulled himself to his feet, the tree Thane had slammed him into giving him much needed support.
“I’m warning you, Thane,” he said as he stood tall, his voice dripping with venom he did not feel. “Ba—”
“Spare me your babbling,” Thane replied as he took a step forward.
With a snarl, Thalas held his now-healed hand up at his former friend, lightning dancing between his fingers. But it was all for naught, for Thane was in the throes of a haste spell, and before Thalas could unleash his spell, the menacing elf before him darted forth, slapping the offending hand aside before slamming an open palm into Thalas’s chest.
But Thalas knew that was not the worst of it, and even as a searing pain tore through his chest, he held his breath and tensed all he could for what was to come. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could do. Then, the gust came, emanating from Thane’s hand upon his chest, and with power enough to slam Thalas against the tree once more, but this time forcing from his lips a pained gasp, and as he crumpled to the floor, Thalas knew at least three of his ribs were now broken.
Rolling over onto all fours, he coughed and spat phlegm and blood at Thane’s feet.
“And to think,” Neremi snarled, “Durlin feared your skill.”
Thalas looked up at his former beloved. The hate he saw in her eyes burned him and burned him deeply. He’d done it for her, all of it, for her. And she’d turned on him like the others. At last, he lowered his gaze. In response, Neremi walked over to the broken Mage Adept. Reaching him, she squatted before grasping hold of his chin, forcing his gaze up to hers. The former lovers stared into each other’s eyes for a spell.
“What did I see in you, Thalas?” Neremi said at last as she shook her head. “What did we all see in you?”
Letting go of his chin, she shook her head. “You don’t even understand what you’ve done, do you? How could you? How could you possibly comprehend the damage you’ve done to us? How could you? You’re scum. That’s all you are. That’s all you’ve ever been.”
“Let’s end this, Neremi,” Thane said as he glared down at Thalas.
Neremi shook her head. “No, he hasn’t suffered enough.”
Rising, she wiped her hand upon her tunic before backing away.
“I want you to break every bone in his body, Thane,” she said as she backed away. “I want to hear him suffer. Like our families will suffer.”
“My family will suffer too!” Thalas gasped.
Neremi scoffed. “Who cares about your pitiful family? Who cares?”
“Neremi, please—” Thalas pleaded.
“No, Thalas!” Neremi bellowed. “No! You do not have the right to beg! You do not have the right to talk to me! To any of us!”
Thalas dropped his gaze and shook his head.
“My family’s been of the court for centuries!” Neremi continued. “Centuries, Thalas! My family and Eldred’s both! But now, thanks to you, our glorious leader, the king will strip us of our fortune and title when this mad tale plays out to its fullest!”
“I’m sorry,” Thalas whispered.
“And let’s not forget,” Neremi continued as she turned to Thane, oblivious to her former lover’s words, “Thane’s family fought tooth and claw for what they’ve got, a fortune that rests solely on their reputation. Care to guess what will happen to that reputation when this is all over?”
“I’m sorry,” Thalas repeated.
“But what do you care? Hunh, Thalas?” Neremi spun to face Thalas once more. “What do you care?”
At last, Thalas looked up. “You’re assuming the Tower’ll end their accord with the king, how—”
“Spare me your mindless reasonings, Thalas, you—”
“But how do you know?” Thalas insisted. “The Tower’s accord with the woodland kingdom benefits both sides and—”
“Do you know how many realms stand ready to replace us in any accord with the Tower?” Neremi asked, incredulous. “The highland barons, many of the human kingdoms to the south and west, hells, even the orcs have expressed interest in the past!”
“You’re just thinking of the money, Thalas,” Eldred added. “Not that I’m surprised. The accord also means the Tower will come to our aid should war break out against us, and the knowledge that the Shimmering Tower stands ready to fight under our banner has been the chief reason so many of our allies are our allies.”
“This is pointless,” Neremi said as she shook her head. “Thane, don’t hold back.”
“Gladly,” Thane replied grimly before heading towards Thalas.
“I can fix this!” Thalas exclaimed as he shrank from Thane. But Thane didn’t slow his steps.
“Gods damn it, listen to me!” Thalas pleaded as Thane grasped him by his collar, lifting him to his feet. “I can fix this!”
As Thane clenched his fist, ready to crash it into Thalas’s jaw, Neremi touched his arm.
“And just how do you propose to do that?” she asked as Thane lowered his fist.
Thalas stared from Neremi to Thane and back again, his mind a blank.
“Well, uh…” he began.
Neremi shook her head, sneering.
“You have nothing,” she said, then waved Thane on.
“Her people, her people are the—” Thalas’s words were cut short by Thane’s fist crashing into his jaw. As stars danced in his vision, Thalas tensed for a second blow, but none came. Forcing his eyes to focus upon his tormentor, Thalas soon noticed Neremi’s hand was upon Thane’s arm once again.
“Meaning?” she demanded once Thalas’s vision cleared.
“Well,” Thalas began, desperate to form his thoughts. “Larine’s plan depends on everyone at the Fayre preaching the same tale. But if we can call the whole tale into question, we can use it to our advantage.”
“How?”
“Well, we…the gutter rats, we raise the alarm first.”
“What alarm?” Eldred asked, frowning.
Thalas turned to stare at him. “Their absence.”
“What?” Neremi exclaimed as Eldred laughed mockingly.
“Some leader you are,” Thane shook his head as he sneered.
“No, hear me. If we wait till dusk, or some time after, and go to that storekeeper, ask him if he’s seen the two, tell him we lost sight of them at the Fayre and have been looking for them, that will call into question any tale spun by Larine’s people.”
“That’s your big plan?” Eldred demanded. “Our word against theirs? They have Gladespell’s coin, coin they have people ready to swear that we spent!”
“Then we call that to question too.”
Eldred crossed his arms before him. “Oh, this I have to hear.”
“Well…” Thalas replied, his mind awhirl anew, “we…” then, he smiled. “We free them.”
“What?” the three exclaimed in unison.
“No, hear me! We free them, get them clear, and tell them to head to Ieran with all haste. We show remorse and vow to bring the Tower to their rescue with all speed, but being in Ieran will mean they are far enough from Netari’s grasp to be safe.”
“They’ll never believe us.”
Thalas nodded, smiling. “Yes, they will.”
“Then what?” Thane demanded.
Thalas shrugged. “All we need is for people to see them arrive in Ieran. We have them hide in an inn of our choosing, arrange for them to leave Ieran by caravan, a caravan of our choosing, and we arrange for them to never arrive at the caravan’s destination. And if anyone asks, they left the caravan during its trek, never said where they were headed.”
“That makes no sense,” Eldred replied. “We’d have told their storekeeper friend we lost sight of them. Why would they decide to leave all of a sudden, and without saying a word to anyone.”
“It would make more sense if we go back to our earlier plan,” N
eremi said, her brow furrowed as she held Thalas in an intense glare. “We argued with them, said some choice words, and watched them storm off.”
Thalas nodded eagerly before turning his gaze from Neremi to Thane. “That caravan woman, she’s still enamoured with you, isn’t she?”
“Which one?”
“The black-haired one, lives in Ieran,” Thalas replied.
“The silk caravan leader that comes to Merethia every other month,” Neremi added.
“Oh, her!” Thane grinned. “Yes, she is.”
Thalas smiled. “And she’ll do anything you ask?”
Thane nodded.
The smile upon Thalas’s lips grew. “Then, we have our caravan. Now, all we need is an inn, one whose patrons aren’t surly enough to scare them away, but plentiful enough for there to be no shortage of witnesses.”
“I know one,” Eldred replied.
All turned to stare at him.
Eldred shrugged. “Arenya told me of a couple. Should serve our purposes enough.”
The smile upon Thalas’s lips turned to a grin. “Then, we have a plan.”
“No,” Neremi replied, shaking her head. “We have a dream.”
“We have precious few options, Neremi,” Eldred noted.
In response, Neremi stared at Eldred before turning her gaze to Thalas. At last, she nodded.
“Fine,” she said. “But know that this does not mean you’re forgiven. When this is over, you are dead to us, Thalas. When this is done with, you will no longer be one of us.”
Thalas nodded, though his heart sank. “Fair enough.”
“Good,” Neremi nodded. “We have work to do, then.”
“We don’t know where they are, though.” Eldred noted.
Thalas grinned. “I believe I do. But first, I could do with some healing.”
Gritting her teeth, Neremi glared at her former lover before placing a hand upon his chest.
“Hold still.”
*****
With a deep frown, Archmage Daniton Drakesong headed for the Summoner Pens.
“Are you sure she’ll be here?” a voice called from behind him.