Thyss shuffled angrily at Brenden’s suggestion that she needed him for safety, but Cor subtly held out his hand for peace. “Failure means your death,” Cor warned.
“Lord, I swear that if I fail, I will already be dead.”
Cor accepted the oath, and the other two commanders were assigned to forward and rear positions respectively. They reviewed their forces heavily, and Cor found that he had roughly five hundred light cavalry and almost a thousand good bowmen. The rest were relegated to infantry units of various types, from peasants with wood axes and pitchforks to armored soldiers. They decided on the marching deployment and agreed that the army would break camp in three days.
That would give Cor an ample head start.
They all supped together in Paton’s study, using the time to discuss a plethora of minutiae, during most of which Cor said nothing and ate little. He excused himself quickly, much to the surprise of those around him. Except for one - Thyss pierced him with a knowing glare, and the others looked to her for an explanation, which she did not offer. Cor strode down the corridor and steps to the lower hall, finding Lord Paton and his family dining with the Dahken and Thom’s daughters.
Cor stepped quietly up behind Paton’s chair and whispered in his ear, “Have you seen Thom?”
Turning his face to Cor’s while keeping his eyes on the two girls at his table, Paton said, “He and his wife are enjoying each other’s company upstairs I believe.”
Cor sighed and rolled his eyes around the room. “My thanks,” he said, clapping one hand softly on the lord’s shoulder, and he turned back for the stairway. Cor sighed as he started the climb, finding each step to be more arduous than the last. Knowing that Celia would be near or even present made this task exponentially difficult. Cor felt as if a great weight lay across his shoulders, and others were shackled to each of his legs. Eventually, he found himself standing exhausted outside the door to the room Thom and Celia shared, a room much like all the others in this keep. He had no intention of waiting outside the door for gods knew how long, and Cor sighed again before pushing it open.
He saw Celia bent over the bed, stark naked and sobbing. She had a balled up bed sheet in her right hand, pushed up to her mouth to muffle her cries, but Cor could see the agony upon her face. Thom stood behind her, his new Loszian body also naked, thrusting himself into her forcefully. “Tell me how much my Western whore needs this,” he said to her, and Cor stood still, monetarily shocked into paralysis. “You’d probably want me to kill you when I am done, but no. I’ll need your cunt again, perhaps later tonight.”
“Enough!” Cor shouted, striding across the small space to plant the flat of his palm on Thom’s chest. He drove the flabbergasted Loszian to the wall just behind him, slamming him hard against the stone. Cor turned to the whimpering Celia. “Lady, are you all right?”
She said nothing, only cried as she half stood, half lay across the bed. Cor released Thom with a warning look and retrieved a woolen blanket that had fallen into a pile on the floor. This he wrapped around her and whispered softly in her ear. Celia opened her eyes in realization that her horror was over and began to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“How dare you interrupt me with my own wife!” Thom cried indignantly.
“Wife, lover or whore, no woman deserves such treatment,” Cor responded coolly. “Celia, do you know where my room is? Go wait there until Lord Paton can find you another bed to sleep in. I will not subject you to him anymore.”
She pushed herself off of the bed and slowly made for the door. Thom started from his place against the wall, as if to stop her, but Cor had expected something from the Loszian. Before Thom could blink, Soulmourn’s point was a mere inch from his left eye, and Celia bolted from the room in sudden fear that she may again be in his clutches. Thom stared after her, then brought his attention back to the steel that was so close to ending his existence. He stepped back to lean against the wall.
“So what now?” Thom asked through clenched teeth as his manhood began to sag toward the floor.
“First, you will never lay another finger on that woman,” Cor said, sheathing his sword. “She is no more your wife, than you are her husband. You are not Thom, stalwart commander of Fort Haldon and loyal father. You are Thom the Loszian. Nadav’s magic has twisted your being.”
“Sovereign Nadav’s powers purified me, made me powerful and true to who I am.”
“Then I have lost you to him,” Cor concluded, and he stood less than a foot from the Loszian. “I assume he knows where you are?”
“I am sure the emperor somehow feels my presence, though I do not know if he can locate me precisely.”
“Have you been in contact with him?” Cor asked. Thom offered no reply, but his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “How do you do it? I want to speak to him. Now.”
23.
The entire affair of invasion and war was fun at first, but it started to wear on Nadav as his host marched to Martherus. Most of the commoners had fled, and they encountered little organized resistance. This time, they offered no quarter as they burned and raped across the Aquis countryside, pressing into slavery those who were foolish enough to be in their path, no matter whether alive or dead. The simple fact was that Nadav grew bored. There was no sport to this, for no one in the Shining West could stand in his way. Perhaps the Northmen or even the elementalists of Dulkur would provide him more of a contest when it was their time.
Nadav had to admit that Aquis was beautiful this time of year, though he found it so perhaps for different reasons than a Westerner would. The air stayed warm during the day, but cooled substantially at night and stayed so into the morning hours. No flowers bloomed, and the leaves changed colors to a variety of red, yellow, orange and brown. It wasn’t the colors that Nadav found so wonderful – it was the fact that autumn was the herald for winter, the season of death.
The host had already stopped its march for the night when the sensation in the back of his skull returned, the tingling that told Nadav someone was trying to contact him. It surprised him, for he had not expected any updates from Byrverus or Menak so soon. He closed the flaps to his tent behind him, blocking out the sunlight that still peeked over the horizon. Ignoring his personal slaves, the emperor filled an obsidian basin with clear water and sat cross legged on the ground. Nadav whispered a few dark words while leaning over the basin, the still rippling water reflecting his image distortedly. When he finished, the image of his face began to change, the water calmed and a new face began to coalesce. He looked upon a Loszian, a fact that did not surprise him, but his eyes widened when he realized who looked back at him.
Nadav heard from Thom the first time only two days before, and he hadn’t expected the newly made Loszian to contact him again so soon. Nadav smiled just slightly – in their last conversation, the former garrison commander of Fort Haldon had shown all the best Loszian traits, both in body and personality. Of course, the magic was to thank for that. When the gods first arrived, the Westerners then exposed turned quickly, and the gods planted knowledge of how to use their powers into their new followers’ minds. The gods had given Nadav the same power.
Breeding made Nadav shudder, and now he didn’t have to endure such a vile act to reproduce his race.
“My Sovereign,” Thom said, bowing his head, and his voice sounded as if it echoed from some great distance, “I do apologize for contacting you again so soon. I assure you it is of the utmost importance.”
“Very well Thom. Thom… it is such a Western name. I think we must find you something more suitable, more Loszian.”
“As you will, Sovereign, but I have with me someone who very much wishes to speak with you.”
Thom’s image moved to one side of the basin and vanished altogether to have it replaced by that of a young man. Nadav gasped, as he would have first thought him a Westerner but for the gray skin of a Dahken. He was in fact young in appearance, perhaps no more than twenty, though lines of worry already showed at the corners of his
mouth and around his hard gray eyes.
“Lord Dahken Cor Pelson, I presume,” Nadav concluded. “I have only ever seen you with that ridiculous bug head helm of yours, well as much as my mindless automatons can see.”
“Are you surprised?” Cor asked.
“Of course not. Nothing surprises me. In fact, part of sending Thom back to you was in knowing that eventually you would contact me through him. That is, if you didn’t surrender to me first. What could you have to say to me, Lord Dahken Cor?”
“I have a proposition for you, Sovereign.”
“Oh, I am all a-tingle,” Nadav said with a shiver and an unnerving leer. “I can only hope it has to do with me violating you repeatedly!”
Cor ignored him, but was unsuccessful in hiding his revulsion. “I offer to meet a champion of your own choosing in single combat. We fight for the future of the Shining West. If I win, you release your hold on its dead and cross the Spine back into Losz.”
“And how long do I stay in Losz?”
“Forever,” Cor answered, and Nadav exploded into laughter as if he had never heard something so funny.
“And why should I agree to such terms? What do you possibly have to offer me should my champion defeat you?” Nadav asked incredulously.
“My Dahken and I shall willingly submit to your rule,” Cor replied. “We will obey you without question, even help you complete your conquest.”
“Dahken, I do not trust your deal, for I do not believe you will uphold your end of the bargain,” Nadav said suspiciously. “On the other hand, I doubt you trust me either, so perhaps we are even on that score. So, very well, I accept your offer. I cannot be expected to leave my host behind, so I choose Lord Dahken Geoff as my champion.”
“How do we find each other?” Cor asked.
“I would say, travel to Martherus. I assume your blood will direct you to each other. Bring Thom with you as a witness, and I will send my own with Geoff. Is that satisfactory, Lord Dahken Cor?”
“Acceptable,” Cor replied.
Nadav tipped the shiny black basin over to break the contact, spilling the water onto the ground. As he watched the water slowly soak into the topsoil, the Loszian emperor knew that neither of them intended to keep their word. It didn’t matter. If Geoff defeated Cor, then he will have rid them of their only truly dangerous enemy, and if Cor succeeded… well, that meant one less lord between which Nadav would have to divide the spoils of his conquest.
* * *
After only a few days, Cor sensed something coming for him from the northwest. He still felt pulled to Byrverus, more north of he and Thom, but as the miles fell behind them, the other presence beyond the horizon called him more. It felt exactly as it had when Cor stumbled across the reborn Rael, but this time he knew it was Geoff. Perhaps he was more adept at reading the pull, or perhaps he just assumed it was Geoff because he knew the younger Dahken would be coming. Regardless, Cor knew that Geoff crossed the miles faster than he.
Cor could no longer stand the company of Thom, for the Loszian continued his sauntering descent into darkness. He occasionally whispered words that Cor did not understand, sometimes with hands moving in patterns Cor could not follow. They rarely spoke to one another, and often when the Loszian did speak, Cor had to restrain his every urge to forcibly shut Thom’s mouth. He hated everything Thom had become, but more he hated the one who had done it to the once loyal and pragmatic Westerner. Cor would avenge himself upon Nadav, if not for himself then for Thom.
The days had grown cool in the Aquis autumn, and Cor found his thoughts constantly on Thyss and Cor’El. He trusted Thyss and Keth completely, but that changed nothing. It didn’t change the fact that she, their son and a score of other Dahken were out there, somewhere following the Byrver and praying to the gods that he would return to them alive. And what if he did not? What if he failed them all? If Geoff slew him, he would have abandoned everyone he loved to whatever mercy the gods could find within Them. The entire affair seemed suddenly selfish and irresponsible.
This vein of thinking continued until Cor spied a lone rider on the dusty, leaf covered road. As they approached one another, Cor’s armor shined black in the sun, while the rider glinted silver. Cor slid on his helm and pulled his horse up short to watch Geoff, who had also slowed his mount. A second figure sat upon the horse just behind Geoff, and it surprised Cor that the horse tolerated it, as he knew that second figure was not living.
Cor dropped off of his horse, motioning for Thom to do the same, and continued his approach on foot. He could have been no more than fifty feet away when Geoff, clothed in Loszian robes of silver, also dismounted, leaving the corpse of a Western woman sitting upright on the horse. As Cor approached cautiously, Geoff dropped to the ground, and the blood streamed from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears to form his ghast. The featureless thing with its great sword had not changed since the first time it had manifested in the palace of Byrverus.
“Geoff,” Cor called loudly as they closed the distance, “I’d like to talk to you. I know you think you’re here to kill me, but hear me out.”
There is nothing to talk about Cor, Geoff’s voice said in his head, and Cor wondered if Thom heard it as well.
“But there is,” Cor argued. “You killed Celdon in battle, and I know you murdered Dahken Rael. But I’m willing to forgive those things, now, if you come back to us and pledge your loyalty to me.”
And why would I do that? You can’t kill me, and you can’t defeat Nadav. No one can. I serve Sovereign Nadav, and he’ll reward me with the rule of the Shining West.
“He lies to you.” Cor drew Soulmourn and Ebonwing and began to circle to his right, Geoff’s ghast doing the same. “You are a Dahken, not a Loszian. You owe him nothing, and he will take everything from you in his lust for power.”
Do you think Thyss will want you in the room while I fuck her over and over? Or in some dungeon?
Cor momentarily stopped circling when he heard both the words and Thom’s soft laughter to his left. The very thought that Geoff dared to contemplate touching Thyss caused white hot anger to build in his gut, and it boiled over to fill his chest and limbs. He could feel it flowing into his sword and winged fetish and returning back to him fivefold. They sang to him, urged him to kill, and a roaring sound like that of rapids on the River Byrver filled his ears. With an unintelligible yell, Cor launched himself at the ghast. Soulmourn cut through the air, seemingly coming from many directions at once in a flurry of blows that was almost too fast to follow. The ghast was quick with its huge blade and fleet of foot, but even still it couldn’t dodge or parry every attack. Soulmourn hacked into the blood form time and time again, driving it back with Cor’s fury, a fury that blinded Cor to the obvious.
Cor brought Soulmourn down in a great blow meant to cut Geoff in half from head to pelvis, but the ghast easily brought its blade up to parry. The swords clanged against each other loudly, the impact jarring, and the two combatants stood staring at each other for a long moment. Then Cor felt a titanic impact to his black hauberk as the ghast’s foot came up in an awesome kick to his chest. Though his armor was undamaged, Cor thought he heard the crunch of bone as he was driven back through the air to land sprawling easily a dozen paces away.
Impressive. Now feel my wrath.
Strengthened by his wounds, Geoff bull rushed forward, and Cor only barely found his feet in time to scramble to his left. The huge red blade chased him, crashing against the stylized back of his hauberk like thunder, and Cor barely stayed upright with the sheer force of it. Geoff’s sword came again and again, and Cor always just avoided it or found a way to make it impact his armor, inflicting minimal damage. Even still, he felt himself bleed, and he knew Geoff’s wounds began to heal.
They fought this way for what seemed like hours, or it even could have been years to the two Dahken, locked in combat such as they were. One would grow slow and tired to be wounded heavily, and then that one would tap the strength of their then flowing blood to go on the
offensive. They would land blows, wounding their opponent and healing their own wounds, but eventually, each warrior’s strength would start to wan while their opponent’s waxed.
“You can’t win,” Cor called out, clutching a deep wound to his right side just under his hauberk. It bled heavily and near black.
Have you seen how dark the blood is pouring from your side? When it is that dark, you haven’t much time left.
“You can’t win,” Cor said again. “Even now, it builds within me again. I’ll wound you gravely, and it’ll start again. We can end this now if you just set aside whatever Nadav has said or done to you. Come back to the Dahken.”
My destiny is with him, not you.
Cor sighed and tossed his weapons to the dusty road, now splattered all around them with the blood of both. He pulled his helm off and dropped it beside them, and he held his arms out from his sides. “Then come claim your destiny.”
Geoff pulled his arms back, intending to remove Cor’s head with a single great two handed blow, but he pulled himself up short. Geoff knew that Cor was right in that the two could fight like this forever with no expectation of a victor, so why would he simply surrender himself to death. It was some sort of trick; he knew it, and he lowered his sword. Still, Lord Dahken Cor’s death was within his reach, and then he would truly be Lord Dahken.
“Kill him!” screamed Nadav’s voice from the dead woman still on the horse. “Kill him! Now!”
Geoff pulled his great sword back and lunged as he stabbed forward. The massive red blade pierced Cor’s midsection just below his hauberk. Cor felt its point rip through his entrails, and there was a horrible cracking sound as the blade passed through his spine. He felt several feet of something like steel slide through his body, and he could no longer stand. It pierced his back, taking with it some of his innards, and Cor was held upright only through Geoff’s strength.
As his blood ran in rivers up and down the length of the blade, Cor felt his own strength build even as his life left his body, but it wasn’t just the pain of the wound on which he focused. He became very aware at that moment that the blade was wholly part of Geoff’s ghast and as much made of Geoff’s blood as the arms or torso of the ghast itself. As he had before, Cor focused on the blood itself, calling it to him.
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