by Lexy Wolfe
Doom’s eyes widened. “You want her to face him as a gladiator? You’re insane. He is a magic user!”
“Tiwaz has magic of her own,” Gareth pointed out.
“Untrained! I’ve only been training barely a month and I know I couldn’t face a mage on their terms. This,” he stated, waving his hands at himself for emphasis. “This is to keep from drawing attention to ourselves so Alimar doesn’t realize we live before we can reach him. It is useless for anything else.”
“Do you have so little faith in her?” Elyssia demanded, her pale eyes flashing in the light, her vehemence surprising all three males. “Has she not faced his magic before? Did she fail when facing it?”
Doom opened his mouth, then shut it again, turning his back on the three. “No, she has never lost a fight. But she has come close to dying. So many times. I want Alimar dead, but not if it costs her life.”
Gareth rose, standing behind Doom. He hesitantly placed his hand on his shoulder. “You go to face a man who has lived over five thousand years and had the blackest heart throughout all of them. I do not deal in false hope with my art. It does no good for anyone. Yes, death is a very real possibility. Failure cannot be permitted. You know better than anyone what will happen if Alimar is not defeated.”
“I know, Gareth.” Simpkins and Elyssia looked away from the poignant anguish in Doom’s voice. “She lived only for this day. When we were children, I held her in my arms and convinced her to live. Live to see him dead. She lived to keep me safe.”
“Then you know she would never let him defeat her,” the bard stated. “Losing would endanger you.”
“You don’t understand. Victory does not mean she would survive. I can’t remember how many times she has hovered on the edge of death and I did everything to keep her alive without needing Alimar’s potions. He would make her suffer so much more because I failed to do it myself.”
Gareth managed a sad smile. “It sounds like she got as good as she did for you.”
Doom nodded. “When we were finally free, she died in my arms once.” He laughed without mirth. “She was so weak, but she fought Death himself anyway.
“She had a gut wound. If I’d only known I had magic…!” He sighed, shaking his head. “I thought she died in my arms and wanted to die myself. My promise to her, that we would be free, was fulfilled. But then the wound closed. It had not healed completely, but she recovered.”
Simpkins blinked, then looked in the direction he knew Tiwaz to be, his expression speculative. “By all that’s holy and unholy, is it possible?” He looked back to Doom. “She healed herself through glyphs designed to constrain her magic?”
Doom looked mildly perplexed. “I assume so. I didn’t heal her, I know that much. And the gods deny having interfered because they did not realize what she was until Sulnar removed them. Why? Does it mean something?”
“I’m not sure,” Simpkins replied, temporizing. “I need to do some research before I can even theorize anything.” He leaned over to kiss Elyssia’s temple lightly, then turned to face Doom again. “The one thing we know we need to do is get close to Alimar, and it would be too dangerous to go to Shurakh Arln. That is his domain, and even a blundering magic user like me knows you do not hunt prey in their home.”
“Point,” Doom agreed, crossing his arms. “So, you have a plan, then?”
Simpkins waved one hand dismissively as he pulled out a bottle, blowing the dust off before offering to fill cups. “I know what I need to begin a plan. I need to know about life in Golden Mount. I’ve never taken the Stone Dragon to port there before. Given her history, so long as we do not act like a pirate ship, they won’t do more than look at us suspiciously. Merchants are highly competitive and often spread rumors of piracy through all the ports. Any city that acts on rumors alone would lose every ship coming into port and it would destroy trade.”
“The crew will be disappointed,” Elyssia opined in dry tones.
“I’ll make it up to them later,” he promised, his voice reflecting his revitalized energy. “Tell me everything. Even the tiniest detail is important.”
TIWAZ AND KY-LAR slept on deck in their usual spot at the base of the fore mast, the sail providing enough shade to keep the brilliant sun from baking them. She opened one eye at the rush of flapping wings shifting to rustling fabric and human feet dropping onto the deck. “I didn’t call you, Veridian.”
The ruby-eyed dragon god leaned on the rail across from her, crossing his arms. “You know why I am here, my friend. Even if you do not pray to me, I watch out for you. I am worried about you.” He frowned when she closed her eyes, ignoring him. “You must stop believing everyone will be better off if you are gone. If you hold onto that belief, you will die when you face Alimar.”
“Why should I believe otherwise?” she demanded, voice flat. “It is true everyone will be better once I am gone. I will no longer be a burden to anyone. My only memories are of being Alimar’s slave. My only purpose for existence is to kill Alimar. Once he is gone, the reason for my existence will be gone.”
He frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Tying yourself to darkness will only draw you to darkness. You are better than that.”
Golden eyes opened, but she did not move from where she lounged on Ky-Lar. “Am I better than Alimar? He is the one who made me what I am.”
The dragon god narrowed his eyes. “And what is it you believe he made you?”
“A killer. A bringer of pain and suffering.” She closed her eyes again. “No matter what any around me have tried to teach me, all I bring them is anguish. Unending grief and heartache because I cannot be what they want me to become. I fumble around attempting to learn ‘normalcy.’ I am empty inside when I go through the motions that please them. It is only when I am fighting or training to fight that I feel alive.”
The dragon’s scowl softened. He walked to her and extended his hand to her. It was several minutes until she finally looked up at him, several more until she put her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet and draw her to the railing to look at the flat line of the horizon. “Of course you feel empty inside. You are a true warrior. No one truly understands the heart of a true warrior unless they are one themselves. But it does not make you a killer or bringer of pain and suffering as you believe you are. Unless that is what you wish to be.”
She looked at him sideways, anger simmering in her gaze. “I know what I have done. I have blood on my hands and deaths on my soul. With or without weapons, I know how to kill, and I have killed.” She turned her eyes back to the horizon. “Sometimes, I have enjoyed doing it. I am going with the purpose of killing my master, and I know I will enjoy it, even if it ends my own life.”
“Tell me something.” Veridian waited until she looked at him. “Was it bringing death that you enjoyed, or the contest itself?” She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, turning her face away. “Being a warrior is more than the result of what we can do. Just as when you learned to forge your weapons, you learned to forge yourself.
“But where a sword is what it is once it is made, a warrior seeks only to continue to improve, to hone their skill. And part of all of that is testing your skill, proving your mettle.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Those who do not understand make you feel ashamed to be a warrior. You have as much right to be proud of what you are as anyone else.”
“No, I do not! People can be more than one thing. All that I am is a weapon for others to use. Even Kragen—” She cut herself off, gritting her teeth, color suffusing her cheeks.
His expression only darkened slightly. “We are aware of the arrangement you made with the demon.”
“You are?” Tiwaz took a half step back, facing the dragon god. “And you do not condemn me for it?”
“Why? You did not seek the demon out for aid, he sought you. It does not mean we are not troubled. Demons are notorious for turning on those whom they aid. Or ask for aid, in this case.” He sighed, looking into the distance. “I am saddened
you did not seek me out instead.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment before she spoke in a whisper. “I bring anguish and heartache.”
He frowned. “If anyone has anguish and heartache because of you, it is because you are loved, and anyone who loves another hurts when the one they love hurts.” He covered her hand on the rail, squeezing. “You see yourself through the eyes of your former master. Not through the eyes of those of us who care about you.”
Tiwaz did not turn to Veridian. “How do you see me if not how I see myself?”
“I see a bringer of mercy and peace. I see one who brings healing.” He chuckled when she looked at him as though he had lost his mind. “I have spoken to many of those souls who had met their end by your hand. All praised you. You brought peace and ended the suffering of those Alimar tortured into insanity. You fought against his magic trying to stay your hand from slaying them. Every fight made you stronger, brought you closer to that moment when you succeeded. They are content knowing they were a part of your journey.”
He touched her chin, gently turning her face back towards him. His thumb rubbed a tear from her cheek. She tried to turn away, but he would not allow her. “We are warriors. The scars we bear run deeper than flesh. The strength we wield is not only physical. We isolate ourselves to protect others as much as others isolate us because they do not understand.”
Tiwaz whispered harshly, “I am not strong.”
He grabbed her by both of her wrists, meeting her startled eyes with fiercely determined ones. “You think you are weak? It takes divine strength to break runic magic. That is why your scars remain. You broke through them many times. The effort—your effort—etched them into your flesh.”
“I am not a god!” she retorted. She tugged her arms, staggering when he released her.
His fierce glare softened. “No, my dear one. You are not a god. That is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all.” They looked over to watch Doom shake her sleeping self’s shoulder, trying to wake her. They walked back together, Veridian holding her hand as she sat back where her body rested. “The child you were born as died when Tiwaz was born.” He put his palm over her heart. “Imagine the possibilities when you are born anew.”
Doom relaxed when Tiwaz’s eyes opened, Ky-lar raising his head and yawning hugely. “Simpkins has a plan. He wants to discuss it with us.”
“Finally. It took him long enough, didn’t it? Baldar said we are only little more than a day out from Golden Mount.” The ship bucked while Doom pulled Tiwaz to her feet. She stumbled, falling against her friend. Her eyes closed as he put his arms around her, a sad smile on her lips in recognition of Veridian’s influence. “You always catch me when I stumble.”
Doom frowned, something behind her words that puzzled him. “Of course? Just as you have always done for me, Ti.” He studied her as she stepped back. “Are you all right? You sound…strange.”
“I’m fine,” she reassured. “Come on. I can’t wait to hear what Simpkins’ idea is.” Doom traded looks with an equally bewildered Ky-Lar before following her.
CROWDS FILLED THE Silver Peacock, a popular upper class restaurant in the Western Empire’s capital city of Golden Mount. Servers hurried around the dimly lit interior with the chaotic grace of honey bees. A hush fell over the room as a dark shadow framed in the double doors cast a pall on the gathered. Alimar sauntered into the main room, a smirk curling his lip as patrons and servers cleared a path for him to his table.
His gladiator bodyguard Tambek followed him closely. He frowned faintly but did not interrupt his master’s enjoyment of the wave of unsettled fear his passage caused. His gaze fell on their destination, and a weariness suffused him, muting his sigh so the sorcerer did not hear.
Alimar stopped short with a frown, discovering his table was occupied by a giant of a man flanked by two guards of his own. The giant held up his glass to the light, squinting at the quality of its contents. He informed him with icy tones, “You are sitting at my table.”
Simpkins arched an eyebrow with insouciance. “Truly? I did not see any names etched into the fine wood or any placards.”
The sorcerer blinked, caught off guard by the nonchalant dismissal. “You must be new to Griffin Isle, stranger. Do you realize you are speaking to Alimar the Black?” he challenged in a cold voice.
Simpkins looked up, lip curling with a superior air. “Excellent. I was hoping I would not have to have anyone beaten for lying to me.” The ogre rose to his full height, resplendent in garments that drew the envious eye of many of the high born in the establishment. Every glittering piece of jewelry, each stitch on richly dyed fabric woven with golden threads shot through, spoke of wealth. “I have been looking for you, Alimar the Black.”
Alimar arched an eyebrow, undaunted by Simpkins’ size or the two men, Gareth and Doom in his human disguise, who stood behind him. “Oh, have you now? Knowing who I am and the danger crossing me puts yourself into? You intrigue me.” He glanced at the sigil he wore. “A master of the Lavender Branch Tower. I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of meeting one of your guild. A very rare ability, possessing the ability to wield two forms of magic. Psionics and conjuring, if I am not mistaken.”
The ogre smiled roguishly. “You flatter me. Not many know of my guild. It is quite small and reclusive.” He sat again, lifting the delicate wine glass, barely of a size suitable for him to hold easily. “Please, I have come a long way to seek the wisdom such a powerful, cunning and gifted magic user such as yourself.”
Alimar smirked and took the empty seat across from the ogre mage. “I admit. It is rare for anyone to arouse my curiosity. Few of our fellows are willing to seek me out. Prideful creatures. Though I can hardly fault them. It is quite a heady feeling, holding the power of life and death over the weaker riffraff.” The scowl on Doom’s human face and Gareth’s elbowing served to amuse the dark magic user. “I do not believe you gave me your name.”
“Simpkins, lord and master of the Stone Dragon. I have only recently come to Golden Mount seeking to expand my holdings. I heard there might be some land becoming available soon and I thought, who better than the man rumored to be more powerful than the sphinx Emperor Dayma-Lon himself to go to for advice?”
Alimar considered, then with an oily smile on his lips, leaned forward. “You are clever, ogre. Very well, you have my attention.”
Simpkins looked at the disguised bard and gestured dismissively. “Go tell the host I wish to have that lovely wine we were discussing earlier. And take Vaug with you to sit at the bar. I wish to discuss matters far too delicate for the likes of such bestial minds.” Doom scowled more deeply, but allowed Gareth to lead him away.
Alimar waved a dismissive hand at Tambek, echoing the ogre’s actions. “Keep an eye on my guest’s men, Tambek. I do not wish any distractions.” Though dressed well, the gladiator bodyguard still wore the shackles of a slave. He nodded and turned on his heel, following the other two without uttering a word.
Simpkins observed, “Your man seems to be in ill humor. You do not worry he might falter in his duty to you?”
“My slaves know better than to fail my expectations.” Alimar waved a dismissive hand. “It was a few years ago this day he earned the privilege to serve me as my personal bodyguard and not one of my prize gladiators. I allow him this one day to remember the cost of disobedience.”
“A gladiator? Fascinating. I had heard rumor you keep your bodyguards’ talents honed by putting them in the arenas.” He gestured towards Doom and Gareth. “I have considered doing the same with my man Vaug, but he is less than malleable.”
“I see no slave bonds on either of your guards. That is your first mistake. You are being too gentle with them. Allowing the misconception they have any choice weakens your position.” The dark mage turned his attention towards the servers, snapping his fingers. Two dropped their trays of empty plates in fright.
While Alimar’s attention was turned away, Simpkins’ expression reflected restrai
ned anger and tension. He pressed his lips together, making a casual, reassuring gesture to Gareth.
ONCE THE BARMAN left to deliver the wine to Simpkins and Alimar’s table, Gareth exhaled loudly. “Can he possibly be so arrogant as not to suspect anything?” He looked back over to their ogre friend, returning a nod to the reassurance the plan was proceeding according to expectations.
Doom clenched his jaw and fists. “Ti told me attempts on his life are made frequently. The laws of the empire allow victims of crimes to choose to claim the criminal slave contracts of their attackers.”
Gareth looked at Doom in shock. “Slaves are not supposed to be abused when they are contracted. How can he possibly get away with that?”
“Because by the time Master is done with them, they are broken and will not only deny he did anything illegal, they will swear their lives and souls to him in a binding, lifetime contract,” Tambek stated tonelessly as he sat on Gareth’s other side. The man did not turn to look at the other two. “No one dares to cross him. The price of disobedience is…” He shook his head. “You and that ogre mage are fools if you think you can succeed in whatever it is you’re planning to do.”
The bard traded worried looks with Doom. “Will you be telling Alimar about our plans?”
Tambek snorted, making a sharp gesture for ale. “Why? He would call me a liar and have me whipped, and then call me a failure and have me whipped after my warning was borne out. I’ll suffer only one beating on your account. He can protect himself.” The man finally turned hard eyes towards them. “He will enjoy torturing you when he has your criminal contracts, too.”
“And the empire does nothing about this? Has no one told them?” Gareth demanded after the ale was brought to Tambek.
“Sacrificing a few to spare many from Alimar’s wrath is a trade the Empire makes, since they have never been able to prove his guilt without doubt,” Doom growled.