Domains of the Chosen 02 Bloodlust: Will to Power

by C. P. D. Harris

  She smiled. Ravius did not understand the situation at all, and yet she still found his words reassuring. A confident tone did wonders. Worrying would not help; she needed to focus on her task. “Thanks. Just be cautious, men; there are no Keystones out here, and none of us are great healers...”

  Gavin brought up the rear of the little company, to shield Cleothera from attacks from behind. He was excited in spite of the situation. The idea that he might be able to use his skills for something other than the arena made his mind race with possibility. Like Sax, he was enjoying himself, but unlike the Ogre his mind was filled with what he might see, instead of what he was seeing.

  They travelled for an hour, moving at a quick pace. They followed game paths through the trees and up rough hills until Sax signalled from up ahead for them to halt from up ahead. They paused for a moment. Gavin and Ravius could see that the Ogre was crouching at a break in the trees and peering into a clearing. After a long, tense moment, he signalled them. They crept forward quietly, listening intently, eyes alert. The forest was unnaturally quiet. Cleothera could not sense any thought patterns, but she could feel the residue of powerful magic. Of course, just because she could not sense anyone, was not a sure indication that no one was there. Sax could mask his thoughts well enough to avoid her detection, others could as well. A ready opponent could hide from anything. She felt a nervous shiver work its way up her spine as they came to the edge of the clearing. She half expected an arrow or a bolt to come flying at her at any moment.

  The clearing was a frozen pond, covered in snow. Several game trails led off into the forest, and likely to nearby roads as well. The surface of the pond was splashed with blood, still cooling. Dozens of bodies littered the ice. Limbs were strewn about. Standing in the middle of the carnage was a huge, misshapen figure moulded from bone and flesh. The thing stood solemn and silent, like some grim sentinel; its two arms ended in huge bone-white swords, reddened with gore. They watched it, breathless. It did not move, save for the blood dripping from its weapons.

  After his shock subsided, Gavin realized that it was a golem, in this case a creature created with necromantic bone-craft; a Razorfist Mauler, frequently used in arena matches.

  The four of them communicated silently, using the mind-links that teams of Gladiators often developed for times when verbal communication in the arena was impossible.

  “What do you think?” Cleothera asked Sax.

  The Ogre took a moment to respond, his eyes still sweeping the scene before them. “Looks like the mauler got loose...,” he shook his head.

  “But?” asked Ravius.

  “...The wagon,” said Sax,

  The wagon in question was a large steam-powered contraption, covered in thick plates. There was no indication that it had been broken. The heavily armoured door was open, but showed no signs of being forced.

  “Could they have been working on it?” asked Gavin.

  “Maybe; seems an awful strange place to do that, with a town less than an hour's travel down the road.” said Ravius.

  “Someone let the golem out,” said Gavin. “We're looking for a necromancer.”

  Cleothera surveyed the bodies: most were clustered around the Golem, showing signs of brutal lacerations caused by its huge bone blades. They looked like a typical band of travellers; guards, merchants, a mix of races and ages. “Am I the only one who finds it odd that none of them appear to have tried to run?”

  “No,” growled Sax. “Seems awful familiar.”

  “Indeed,” said Ravius. “Should we take down the Golem and see what we can find?”

  “I just don't know,” said Cleothera. “This could be very well be a trap. If you guys get badly hurt out here you could die.”

  Gavin continued to examine the bodies while they talked. The dead travellers were armed with variety of weapons. A few swords, axes, bows and a spike rifle. Some knives, and clubs. He even spotted a small body, a Quickling, or perhaps even a child, he realized with a shudder. The tiny mangled form clutched a sharp stick. Why wouldn't they have run? He saw another body that appeared to have dragged itself towards the golem for a short while after being cut in half. A bright swash of blood and a line of intestine were all that connected the two halves. The whole scene spoke of unnatural determination on the part of the people attacking the golem. The signs called to mind the carnage in their camp after that night of shadows and slaughter. There was no doubt in him now.

  “The person we are here to find,” he said, out loud, shocking them. “Was officer Erbly a necromancer?”

  Cleothera paused a moment, checking the link for information, “Yes, he was. You don't think...”

  Gavin nodded. “I do. I wager the Golem was defending him. These people attacked him, mind-slaved like the ones that came after us... I don't like the idea that the wild magic used us against is still out there, but this looks almost exactly like the dominated people who attacked us. Mauler Golems aren't fast, yet none of these people ran. They probably wounded your Grey-Robe badly early on and he called on the Golem to defend himself. Your hunch was right Cleo; we've seen this before.”

  “Agreed,” said Sax, nodding. “Explains the lack of tracks leaving this place.”

  “If I am correct, Erbly's body will be near the Golem,” said Gavin. “He either succumbed to his initial wound or someone got to him.

  “Wow,” said Ravius. “If this is purposeful then someone must have really wanted him dead: domination of this sort is a forbidden spell and not an easy one.”

  “Someone powerful,” said Cleothera, looking out into the snow covered trees. “It also calls into question the attacks made against us.”

  “Not too powerful though,” said Sax.

  Cleothera looked at him questioningly. The lean ogre shrugged.

  “There are much better ways of killing men,” said Sax. “If a Chosen had used this kind of spell, they could have just dominated Erbly into killing himself. I've seen it done. A smart Chosen would have just sent someone to put a knife in his back; this smacks of an unplanned fight. Someone desperate, with limited options used what was at hand.”

  “It is rather... messy,” said Gavin slowly, surveying the carnage. The scene reminded him of the arena. The lake would make a good fighting grounds. The blood stood out against the ice and snow. The Mauler looked like a victorious Gladiator at the end of some brutal slaughter match, bloody and victorious, moments away from giving salute. He could almost imagine the roar of the crowd as it raised its weapons. The only difference really was that the part of the monsters was played by these hapless travellers. He shivered.

  “It had to be someone who was strong enough to cast the spell, but not so strong that they could have just overwhelmed the target,” said Ravius. “They had to go for the less resistant minds of the travellers.”

  “Would be easier for them to cast if they were nearby,” said Sax.

  “It could be a skilled Gladiator and many Gifted...” mused Cleothera. “Maybe a heretic, or a disciple of one.”

  “Our Grey-Robe should have been able to shut down a Gladiator or Vassal,” said Ravius. “That is your speciality, after all”

  “A heretic, then,” said Sax. He realized that it could also be a Grey-Robe or a weak Hearthbound, but he did not speak these thoughts out loud.

  “Not a very smart one, though,” said Ravius. “This draws way too much attention. The Deliberative are always on the lookout for Heretics to begin with.”

  “We know this wasn't carefully planned,” said Cleothera. “Even the craftiest heretic can make mistakes when things go wrong. Perhaps the killer was travelling with these people and our Grey-Robe found out.”

  “Cold-blooded to do this to folk he had been travelling with,” said Sax.

  “I think we are overlooking the obvious,” said Gavin. “I think it was another Grey-Robe. A dispute of some sort, maybe. This reminds me of the spells used to control the monsters in the arena, only weaponized somehow. It may be forbidden magic, but it�
�s not outside a Grey-Robe's abilities.”

  Cleothera opened her mouth and then shut it again. Gavin and Ravius looked at her expectantly. It took her a moment to find the words. She looked at Sax, who shrugged and turned away. “I've heard rumours. I think Gavin is closer to the truth than we might like. Keep it to yourselves, though. I have called in a special team to help deal with this. I hope you boys don't have any plans for the next little while; we will be standing guard until they get here.”

  o-----

  They waited tensely, time marked only by the slow course of the sun. After satisfying themselves that there were no survivors or tracks, they stayed away from the frozen pond. The Razorfist Mauler never moved from its silent vigil; a grim, unwavering presence standing among its fellow dead.

  They moved around the scene, looking for tracks and any clues as to who might have escaped the bloodbath. They found very little. A small group appeared to have left the lake before the carnage, leaving for the road nearby, but they could not find any information about who these people were or what happened to them. It was possible that this was just another group of travellers, who would no doubt be shocked to hear the fate of the people with whom they had just shared a campsite. It was equally probable that it was a dangerous enemy of the Domains who had blended in with another group on the road.

  Sax decided that they should put up ranger's marks to make sure that no one else would stumble onto the lake and trigger the golem. They kept watch for anyone and everyone. Cleothera kept them unleashed, allowing them full use of their magic in case they were attacked. Through unspoken agreement one of them stayed at her side at all times, acting as a bodyguard. She did not protest.

  Time passed slowly. Ravens flew in, great black birds, attracted by the smell of carrion, landing on the tall pines around the lake. They did not drop down to feast on the bodies. Gavin wondered if they could somehow sense the magic emanating from the Mauler. He' knew that some animals were sensitive to lingering spell patterns, a trait that helped them survive the tainted lands after The Reckoning.

  o-----

  Hours later, as the sun at last dropped down past the trees, the thunderous sound of hooves alerted them to the arrival of others. They quickly took up hidden positions. Once they were sure of their safety, the three Gladiators and Cleothera left the shelter of the trees to meet the party who had just arrived.

  There were twelve Grey-Robes, each riding a sweat-soaked horse. Gavin could see immediately that these animals were a special breed. The massive equines did not seem to be bothered at all by the cold, or more tellingly, by the scent of blood. He wondered if they were Strikers; specially selected horses that were trained, body sculpted, and enchanted to be superb war-mounts. He stared at them in fascination for a moment while Cleothera and Sax approached the leader of the party, a sharp featured woman with hard, wary eyes.

  “Officer Orphania, report.” The woman's voice was cold and crisp. Others in the part dismounted and began to fan out. Gavin guessed they must have a few scouts with them as well, stalking through the trees. The thought made his shoulder-blades itch.

  Cleothera reached into her robe, gingerly. Gavin noticed that some of the newly arrived Grey-Robes were unusually tense, looking around warily. He and Ravius exchanged glances. All of the riders were armed and Gifted, and four of them wore armour and the same black second skin that Sax wore. These looked like fighters to him, Blackcloaks most likely; they exuded a fearsome readiness.

  Cleothera withdrew her link crystal from her Robe. “Ordo Grevex told me to present this to you.” She passed it to the leader of the Party, who began to look it over. After reading it the woman looked up.

  “This checks out.” The woman's voice was less cold now. The group behind her seemed to let out a collective breath. Gavin was interested by how worried they seemed to be. Heretics were dangerous to be sure, but this went beyond that level of caution. He had never seen a Blackcloak before and now he was standing in the presence of four... five if you counted Sax. He felt this confirmed his feeling about a rogue Grey-Robe. The rest of the group dismounted and began to study the scene and check the perimeter. Sax moved off to clasp hands with a Dwarven Blackcloak at the back of the group, an old friend from his days in the arena from what Gavin could tell. He seemed relaxed.

  Cleothera related what they had learned. The woman in charge, Captain Katryn diAuran, listened attentively without saying a word. Gavin could sense her communicating wordlessly with her men. One of them, a powerful Necromancer, began the arduous task of taking control of the Golem. Gavin noticed that the Grey-Robes were wary of triggering any hidden enchantments or physical traps. He was impressed at their caution, and observed, learning as much as he could. The idea of conflict within The Deliberative made him shiver. They had always presented a united front to the rest of the Domains throughout their long history. Yet it made sense to him that others would try to infiltrate and manipulate them. It also made sense that their rumoured enforcement arm, the Blackcloaks actually existed. Gavin was left wishing he knew more about what was going on in the world outside his cloistered life as a Gladiator, so he could piece together what was going on here.

  The necromancer did not get full control of the Golem until long after sunset. They were sharing a meal when Cleothera and Captain diAuran were called over to identify the body of the fallen Grey-Robe, which was indeed the object of the Mauler's long watch. Gavin and Ravius were getting tired by then. They had already been grilled at length. The tension and the carnage had long since dissipated into boredom. Unlike Sax they did not know any of the Grey-Robes, and the conditioned response of any Gladiator is to treat Officers of The Deliberative with wary respect; even Ravius found being surrounded by a sea of grey daunting.

  Strangely they found the Blackcloaks easier to get along with, but they were only able to exchange a few words with them as they went about securing the scene.

  With the body identified and the Golem under control, their day might have ended there. But one surprise remained: as the body of the fallen Grey-Robe was brought off the ice, Gavin caught a look at the man's face. He was instantly struck by a sense of familiarity. The Gladiator's brow furrowed as he tried to recollect the man. Even though they usually travelled with Cleothera, they had still met hundreds of Grey-Robes in their time. It took him a moment to realize where he had seen him before. His was the face of one of the officers who had confronted him at The Keystone when he had fought the sand stalker for his fourth rank test match in Scorpion's Oasis. Gavin was not sure if he wanted to relate this to the others; it seemed paranoid, but he was unable to conceal his reaction from Captain diAuran.

  “Gladiator,” she said, her voice cutting through the night and silencing the idle conversation of her team. “Do you have something to say?”

  It was more of an order than a question. Gavin frowned. Everyone was looking at him. His Keystone conspiracy theory sounded rather stupid in the light of day. He did not want to malign the dead man by relating it, especially in front of that man's peers. However, the Captain's cool gaze prompted Gavin to speak. He related his tale, keeping to the facts, leaving out any personal impressions or conjecture. The dead man was one of the Grey-Robes who had been with his Dwarven antagonist.

  “Interesting,” said the Captain. “I'll want descriptions of the others drawn up before you go, Gladiator. Officer Orphania, I have a special assignment for you.”

  o-----

  “So they think The Deliberative has been infiltrated?” asked Omodo, filling the Gladiator's entrance as they gazed out onto the ice that filled the Arena at Sonarion's crossing. There was a certain stark appeal to the perfectly flat frozen sheet, but it reminded Gavin too much of recent events. Paranoia crept up on him, and he struggled to control his thoughts. Gavin noticed a large number of people in the audience were wearing Gold. He could not figure out why.

  “Apparently,” said Gavin.

  “It seems kind of like a crazy story off the rumour page of the Arena Post
when we talk about it here,” said Ravius. “The sort of fiction that G.G. White would cream himself over.”

  “True,” said Gavin. “But it also makes perfect sense. Many people hate The Deliberative. I'm not terribly fond of them myself some days. But the best way to change, or even destroy, such a large institution is from within. It is a basic fact of politics. I'm sure it has happened before, we likely just don't hear about it because they don't really want to lift the veil and appear fallible like the rest of us. The Deliberative is more effective if it looks infallible.”

  “I hear that, little brother,” said Ravius. “If they misstep the Meliorist Chosen would use it as an excuse to lessen their power; they are always looking for an excuse to weaken The Deliberative. Then the public assemblies would want a say...”

  “And then the Factions would get involved,” said Omodo, chuckling. “Why do I miss all the interesting encounters?”

  “Doesn't seem that fun to me,” said Ravius. “Not all of our brethren are as easygoing as you Omodo. Imagine what Valaran would do with this information.”

  “We should keep quiet about it then,” said the Armodon.

  “Agreed,” said Gavin. “No sense in starting another Gladiator's rebellion.”

  Ravius opened his mouth to comment but the trumpet sounded calling them into the arena.

  “Any idea what we are fighting?” he asked as they moved into the arena, testing the ice that covered the fighting grounds. It was thick enough that it bore Omodo's full weight without cracking, but Gavin was struck by the possibility of their being some beast underneath.

  “After the Kraken, I figured it would be good for morale if we took on something simple that allowed us to showcase out skills,” said Omodo. “I signed us on for a match where I knew what we would be fighting. This time it is some kind of Automaton soldiers, like the ones you guys fought in Scorpion's Oasis, but adapted for Northern campaigns.”

  “I wonder if they'll have skates,” mused Gavin.