As Flies to Wanton Boys (Immortal Treachery Book 2)

by Allan Batchelder

“Two!” The boy laughed.

  “You can go celebrate now,” Vykers suggested. “I won’t be needin’ your services anymore.”

  The boy looked a little crestfallen, but the gleam of the coin in his hand cheered him up again quickly. “Thanks, Reaper,” he said. “You ain’t as bad as they say.”

  “Insult me like that again, boy,” Vykers joked, “And I’ll rip yer arms off.”

  The boy ran off, chuckling.

  Arune.

  Vykers?

  This enough coin to get you your own body?

  It’ll do.

  Good. I gotta make one other stop, first.

  Something in his voice told the Shaper she wasn’t going to like whatever it was.

  *****

  Long’s Team, In Pursuit

  The wagons that he believed were bearing Esmine headed north, a true and constant north. Long hoped he and his friends overtook their quarry before autumn was out; his history with snow had not been good, and he didn’t relish the idea of battling through the cold of the wild north in winter.

  He ruminated with some bitterness on the unfulfilled promises of the past spring, of a carefree time spent tending his apples and playing amongst the wildflowers with his wife and daughter, of the happy anticipation of an ample harvest in the fall and the comfort and security that would bring – all lost.

  Long looked at the weathered and weary faces of his comrades, wondering which of them would survive this latest quest. As much as he loved his friends, he knew that the loss of any or all of them would be bearable if only he rescued his beloved Esmine. He supposed he ought to feel guilty for thinking this way, but his friends had been through a lot – together and apart – and they understood the risks in such an undertaking. Long loved them all the more for it, too.

  On the horizon, the daunting teeth of the Venouri Mountains slowly rose into view.

  What a horrible, lonely place to die, Long thought.

  *****

  Vykers, Lunessfor

  “I wanna see Her Majesty,” was all he’d had to say at the gates of the castle in order to gain admittance, which suggested Alheria was expecting him. She was a goddess, after all.

  After a lengthy walk, Vykers arrived outside the throne room and was again ushered inside without much concern or delay. The instant he walked through the doors, Alheria’s voice rang out.

  “Well, well, well: here we are, again.”

  This time, Her Majesty sat in the great throne, making no pretense at being unable to climb all the stairs leading up to it. Lurking in the shadows at its base, the Queen’s Shaper was just where he’d been the last time the Reaper had visited this room.

  “I see you’re feelin’ better,” Vykers commented.

  “I am, thank you,” Alheria said. “And you seem healthier, too.”

  Vykers unabashedly counted the guards around the room. “What’s a god need with so many swords and a Shaper?”

  “These are dangerous times, Reaper. One can never be too careful.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Was there something particular you wanted?” Alheria inquired.

  “I been thinkin’ about how all o’ this turned out.”

  “Ah. Thinking. There’s your first mistake.”

  Was she goading him? Vykers couldn’t tell. “And I think you still owe me.”

  “Do you?” the Queen asked, in a way that suggested she wasn’t at all surprised by the statement.

  “You healed me for settin’ you free,” Vykers went on, “but you coulda healed me three years ago. Instead, you kept me prisoner for all o’ that time, even after I saved your kingdom from the End. And before that, you had my hands and feet cut off. It’s true, I managed to get ‘em back eventually, but it seems to me I’ve lost a damn sight more ‘n you over these last few years and got little to show for it, whereas you still got your throne.”

  “It’s funny you should mention your hands and feet,” Alheria responded, “because I’ve been working on a little surprise for you in that regard.”

  “Oh?” Vykers said, doing his best to feign disinterest.

  The Queen clapped her hands and four of the guards stepped closer to the dais on which her throne sat.

  “I planted those little seeds of yours, and look what I’ve grown!”

  She clapped her hands again and the guards raised their visors. All of them wore Vykers’ face. At a third clap, each assumed a defensive stance.

  “As a warrior, you may be without peer, Tarmun Vykers. But even you cannot defeat four of yourself.”

  Vykers – the original Vykers – didn’t move. Not a muscle, not a hair. “You plannin’ to sic these on me?”

  “Not if you don’t give me cause.”

  Fuckin’ gods! “You mighta found some way to copy my body, but these boys ain’t got my brains or experience.”

  Alheria leaned forward on the throne. “Would you care to test that?”

  Common sense unexpectedly paid Vykers a visit, and he said nothing.

  “Very well, then. I shall allow you to leave my castle -- and my kingdom – unharmed, so long as you do leave and quickly.”

  Vykers didn’t like letting the old windbag have the last word, but perhaps departing in silence would seem more ominous. He wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot. With a final scowl in the Queen’s direction, he turned on his heel and left the room.

  I was afraid you might be tempted to attack those other Vykers, Arune interjected.

  There are no other Vykers.

  No, I suppose not. Still, I’m glad you kept your head back there.

  Sometimes, keepin’ yer head is the only way to keep yer head.

  Arune laughed. Philosophy, Vykers?

  Call it whatever you want. We’ve got one last piece o’ business…

  *****

  Vykers lay on a cot, beside a second one which held the covered body of newly dead young woman. She’d apparently died of exposure overnight, and her body had still been warm when an A’Shea had been sent for. No one could bring her back, but…

  There were two other people in the small, private room: a Shaper and an elderly A’Shea. Both walked in a circle around the two cots, chanting softly, though not in unison, towards Vykers and the covered body. It was a complicated arrangement, and one, Vykers felt, Arune must’ve have been working on for some time.

  Hey, Burn, when’d you set all o’ this up?

  While you were lying in bed in the castle, a couple of years ago, it must be.

  That long? Huh.

  You have to let go, Vykers, Arune urged. You have to consciously let go of me.

  Believe me, he replied, this can’t happen fast enough for me.

  Arune laughed. You’re going to miss me, Reaper, and you know it. We’ve done some great things together.

  Vykers grunted. A few. That battle in Morden’s Cairn was something, eh? When you blasted those dead bastards…

  You weren’t half bad, yourself.

  No.

  And what about our fight with the End-of-All-Things? Don’t tell me you didn’t love every second of it.

  Well, Vykers admitted, that was pretty damned fine. ‘Cept maybe the flyin’ part.

  Do you remember the look on the End’s face, though, when you rose up to meet him?

  It was Vykers’ turn to chuckle. He about shit a porcupine!

  Nice image, that.

  You Shapers, always so sensitive.

  But that work you did back on that lake bed, against all those other champions? That might have been your best work.

  Mighta, Vykers agreed.

  Shaper and warrior fell silent a moment, and then…

  You will miss me, Vykers.

  Maybe, he allowed. Probably.

  That was as good as she’d get. You’ll feel drowsy, she warned.

  But none o’ your burning and twitching, right?

  A warm lethargy overcame him. It was difficult to think what he should say next, difficult to care about it. Perhaps a brie
f rest…

  *****

  Something was wrong, horribly, catastrophically wrong. Arune had gotten her own body at last, but…it was Vykers’ body. The Reaper, with whom she’d shared it for years, was no longer in evidence, which could only mean he’d been sent to the other body, the one intended for the Shaper. It had to be the result of Brouton’s Bind. Initially, this realization filled Arune with panic, but as she took the time to consider the situation, she began to see how it might work in her favor. Yes, Vykers had been a friend. Yes, they’d saved one another’s lives. But a healthy and whole Vykers stood in the way of her ever attaining Aoife’s affection. Unless she was Vykers. It was unthinkable, and yet…in the guise of the Reaper, she might just be able to insinuate herself into the A’Shea’s good graces long enough to seduce the woman, long enough to ensure and cement an emotional and physical bond that might withstand whatever followed. No question, it was a despicable and desperate plan, and if Arune did not like to think of herself as despicable, she was certainly desperate. Not my fault, she told herself. It’s Brouton’s Bind, which I wouldn’t be suffering in the first place but for my efforts to keep Vykers alive. Part of her – perhaps even the greater part – knew this to be a dodge, yet she couldn’t help feeling this selfish impulse was also a result of Brouton’s Bind, that it was behavior she’d learned from the Reaper and not something she’d come to on her own.

  For a moment, she feared Vykers’ wrath, but it seemed beyond unlikely the new Vykers could catch and punish her. She was the Reaper, and he was…an adolescent girl.

  Once more, she weighed her options. Once more she concluded that her need for Aoife overruled all other considerations. She would either have what she wanted, or she would have nothing.

  *****

  Vykers thrashed about on his cot, bedeviled with ague and fever dreams, often approaching but never quite achieving consciousness. Eventually, he shivered himself awake and saw that he was alone in the room. He also understood in an instant that something – everything – was wrong. His body was weak, sickly, light as a feather and…female.

  He leapt for the door, found it locked.

  “Open this fuckin’ door right now!” he shrieked in a voice he didn’t recognize, a voice too small, too frail to serve his great anger. In a white-hot rage, he flung himself against the door, intending to smash it open, but the door rebuffed him and seemed to laugh at his new, slighter frame. Again, he threw his shoulder into the door; again, it proved uninterested in his desires. What’s more, his efforts left Vykers’s new body throbbing in pain. It was clear the world would no longer respond to him as it once had. He could no longer subdue threats and overcome obstacles with physical might. “Arune!” he screamed. “Arune, damn you! Open this door!”

  Arune did not come, nor did anyone else.

  Vykers returned to the cot and lay down. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, attempting to calm himself, as he’d used to do in the Queen’s castle. He held a delicate hand in front of his face and examined it. If he hadn’t been so angry, so tired, he might have laughed at that absurdity of it all. He was a Mahnus-be-damned woman! What in the infinite hells was he supposed to do now?

  As he lay there, pondering this disaster, he fell asleep. When he awoke, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Accepting that his new body would not allow him bull rush his way out of the building, he got quietly to his feet and crept towards the exit, expecting at any moment to see it slam shut again. When it did not, he eased the aperture wider and poked his head into the hallway beyond. It seemed he was quite alone.

  Had this been a set up from the get-go? It was hard to believe Arune was capable of such a thing, but what else could it be? And if the Shaper had betrayed him…

  He wanted to find someone, anyone, and punish that person for the treachery he’d just endured. He wanted to slaughter, to paint the walls, floors and ceiling with the blood and entrails of those who’d betrayed him. But while he knew his usual body could handle any number of opponents and sustain massive amounts of damage without faltering, he doubted his current form could withstand the attentions of a single assailant. In short, he was more vulnerable than he’d ever been. If this body died…

  Finally, Vykers made his way out of the building and into the light of an autumn afternoon, a few hours shy of sundown. It was the first time he’d gotten a really good look at himself. Or herself. He was a tiny slip of a thing, little more than fifteen or sixteen years of age, wearing a homespun shift that provided scant cover and less warmth. Vykers felt he might blow away on the next breeze.

  Well, he thought, there’s no rush to leave town now, is there? It was not as if Her Majesty or any of her attendants would recognize the Reaper anymore, anyway. And he still had quite a bit of gold coming from the vinter later in the week. True, the little girl he’d become would have to collect it on the Reaper’s behalf, but he didn’t think even Quinsh was stupid enough to refuse Vykers’ messenger. And with that gold, he could secure food, shelter, better clothing, perhaps even information about where Arune had gone.

  Oh, he would find the Shaper, and no mistake.

  Struggling to make sense of his predicament, the Reaper wandered back and forth across the city and, ultimately, out onto the Tronsbridge. He watched the sun set over the south fork of the Aumbre, just outside the gates of Lunessfor. It struck him that in the last month or so he’d lost what few friends he’d had, his woman, his Shaper, his magic sword, and even his body. His body, for Mahnus’ sake! He still had his spirit, though, his soul. And an endless supply of rage.

  He had never been more dangerous.

  ~THE END~

  Cast of Characters

  Tarmun Vykers, A.K.A, “the Reaper” – a legendary warrior

  Aoife (pronounced EE-FUH) – An A’Shea or “Mender”

  Cindor – The Queen’s Shaper

  Hoosh Bindy – The Queen’s Fool

  Three – A chimera and friend of Vykers

  The Historian, A.K.A, “the Ahklatian” – An ancient sage and Shaper

  Tadpole, A.K.A. “the Frog” – a boy under Aoife’s care

  Long, A.K.A, Long Pete, A.K.A. “Captain Peter Fendesst” – a retired soldier and husband to Mardine

  Mardine -- A giantess, wife to Long and mother to Esmine.

  Esmine – Their daughter

  Nelby – Their thrall servant

  Jaddo – Nelby’s lover

  Tresa – A former thrall

  Captain Kittins – A Captain in Her Majesty’s Army

  Yendor Plotz – A drunk and friend to Long

  Spirk Nessno – An idiot and friend to Long

  Remuel Wratch, A.K.A. “Rem,” -- a famous actor

  Keez – An actor in Rem’s company

  Colonel Bailis – An officer in Her Majesty’s Army and Kittins’ Commanding Officer

  Esmun Janks – One-time friend to Long Pete and employee of House Thornton

  Peppers – A prisoner in the dungeons of House Thornton

  Cargon – An old farmer

  Leetsa – His wife

  Endu-Ro – A satyr

  Toomt’-La – Another satyr

  The Great Eight:

  House Fyne (Infiltrated by Yendor)

  Moult, a guard

  House Thornton (Infiltrated by Long)

  Chade Thornton – Patriarch of House Thornton

  House Gault (Infiltrated by Kittins)

  Lord Darley Gault – Patriarch of House Gault

  Wrensl Deda – a guard

  House Blackbyrne (Attacked by Kittins)

  Kendell – Chief of Security at House Blackbyrne

  House Hawsey (Infiltrated by Rem)

  Lord Henton Hawsey – Patriarch of House Hawsey

  Lady Hawsey – His oversexed wife

  House Radcliffe (Infiltrated by Rem)

  Gelter Radcliffe – A member of House Radcliffe

  House D’Escurzy (Infiltrated by Spirk)

  Lord Titus D’Escurzy – Patriarc
h of House D’Escurzy

  Faenia D’Escurzy – Niece to Lord Titus

  Briedach D’Escurzy – Cousin of Lord Titus

  Ron “Death Bow” – a guard

  House Amberly (Damaged by Yendor)

  About the Author:

  Allan Batchelder is a professional actor, educator and former stand up comedian. He has written several plays and screenplays, dialogue for computer games, and online articles about theatre and/or education. Steel, Blood & Fire is his first novel, the opening act in a planned series. Allan lives in Washington State with his wife, son, cat and dog. And his computer.

  For updates and news about sequels, go to: https://www.facebook.com/SteelBloodFire