by Lee Carlon
Taunting the Devil
The Bastard Cadre #5
Lee Carlon
Big Epic Studio
Copyright © 2017 by Lee Carlon
All rights reserved.
Thank you for supporting the author.
Contents
Taunting the Devil
1. Immortal Intrigues
2. The Condemned
3. The Fallen
4. Shroud
5. The Nature of the Job
6. Honor and Promises
7. Meticulous Plans
8. Every Eventuality
9. Skybridge
10. Dead Reckoning
11. Shared Fates
12. Tobin Dragonslayer
13. New Scars
14. Ancient Enmities
15. Holding the Knife
16. Homecoming
17. The Judge’s Mercy
18. The Code
19. Divine Insights
20. Watching Shadows
21. The Crucible
22. Reckless Bravery
23. Broken Words
24. The Lord of Damar
25. Sins of the Father
Hell’s Breath
Taunting the Devil
True power is never granted; it is always taken.
The Chosen wear their God’s hearts and rule Newterra as their avatars. Those who aspire to become Chosen must seize power violently to gain their God’s confidence, to do anything less risks rejection and damnation.
Aspirants are gathering in Damar, each preparing to claim Maiten’s heart when the God’s current chosen, Lord Rarick, falls, but who will succeed? The lone assassin who has already failed once? The infiltrator who has worked his way into Lord Rarick’s confidence and is playing all sides of the conflict? Or a member of a covert team with careful plans and the backing of a rival Chosen?
The Bastard Cadre is an ambitious science fantasy saga set in a futuristic dystopia where dragons soar above cities of technological splendor, and what’s left of humanity must choose between kneeling to malevolent Gods and risking annihilation to fight them.
1
Immortal Intrigues
486th year of the True Gods
4 years before the Cleansing
The darkness was crypt silent.
Lord Obdurin twitched in his meditation, and the sounds of Peak City came flooding back in. It had been so quiet he briefly wondered if he’d succeeded in bringing stillness to his mind during the evening meditation, or, unlikely as it seemed, if exhaustion had caught up with him and he’d fallen asleep. It was decades since he’d last slept, but anything was possible.
Feeling every minute of the last two years pressing down on him, Obdurin glanced around the room where he meditated. It had changed considerably since he’d claimed it and Rhysin's heart. The previous occupant had been Lord Benshi Chi’Rhysin Chosen, and the room had reeked of the man. A ridiculous bed, bigger than the monastery cell Obdurin had previously called home, had dominated the center of the space. On that first night, with Benshi’s blood still wet on his hands, the women in that bed had tried to welcome Obdurin, but he’d softly insisted they leave. He’d never seen them again. Battle-scarred weapons and tattered banners had adorned the walls, no doubt trophies Benshi had claimed in combat.
Obdurin had never felt more out of place than at that moment in his life.
Now the rooms were simpler. Bondsan had smashed the bed in place and removed it in pieces. The walls were bare, and the thick carpets had been torn up and removed. A single chaise lounge was set by a window so he could study the stars at night. His meditation mat, the one he’d brought with him from the monastery on the day he’d wanted to ask Lord Benshi Why, was positioned in an alcove that gave him a view of the rest of the room. On several stands and shelves around the room were historical artifacts, valued for their place in time and what they revealed about the world.
Half of the room had been given over to Obdurin’s library. Books were piled up in uneven stacks on the floor and lined the shelves he’d had constructed. It was tempting to leave his meditation and return to the books. Throughout the laborious negotiations and meetings of the day, his mind had traveled back to this room and those books. Rhysin’s first Chosen, Frake, had been a prolific writer and many of the leather-bound books were his, but he’d made little effort to organize his output.
Crimson skinned Thwart guarded the door to the stairs that led down to the audience chamber below. Sunder guarded the door to the terrace. Both dimin regarded him with small black eyes, as unreadable as obsidian. Obdurin wondered if there would be more dimin tomorrow. Before he could control the thought the words crossed his mind, Abyss, I hope not.
Obdurin pushed away memories of Rhysin’s maidens, eager for their one night with a god.
He studied Sunder for a moment then closed his eyes and drew in a deep, steadying breath. The air tickled his nose on the way in. His chest expanded with the intake of air and then contracted as he released it. There had been a time when he’d never expected to enjoy the simple pleasure of a pain-free breath again.
Rhysin’s heart felt heavy on Obdurin’s wrist, and he thought, I suppose I should thank you.
He took another breath and felt some of the exhaustion leaving him. He tried to let his thoughts drift, to simply exist, but with the exhaustion fading, his mind insisted on revisiting the day. For two weeks he’d met with the Charoon Ambassador, and every time he thought he knew what the man and his Lord wanted the dynamics shifted and they started over.
It was a puzzle to be figured out. Obdurin focused on another breath. The Ambassador and Charoon would still be there tomorrow, for now, he should let his mind rest.
Another breath and his attention wandered back to the books. There was another puzzle in Frake’s writing. Obdurin felt like he was close to understanding something beneath the surface, something Frake had left there for his successors, something hidden in plain sight.
Obdurin pulled his attention back to his breath. He would study the books through the night, for now, it was just him and his breath. An oft-repeated phrase from Frake’s writing came back to him. I hold a God’s heart. I shall fear no man.
He told himself, Breathe.
His concerns and preoccupations fell away, and the sounds of Peak City washed over him. Almost three million people lived in Peak City, and at that moment Obdurin thought he could hear every one of them. A patrol drone swooshed past his tower, and he tried to picture the monastery where he’d lived before Frake’s Peak. Perhaps if he managed that he could recapture some of the serenity he’d felt there.
Voices from his past drifted across his awareness.
I don’t want to be here. I didn’t ask for this. I want to be free.
He’d been impossibly young the first time he said those words, but he’d come full circle. I don’t want to be here either. I didn’t ask for this. I want to be free.
The old master’s voice echoed across the decades separating them. Free? There is no freedom, boy, only the perception of freedom. We are all bound, one way or another, by the constraints of the universe, by each other, and worse of all by ourselves and these mortal vessels. No one is free. The only freedom is the choice to perceive ourselves as free.
How do you do that? his younger self had asked.
By choosing to ignore the bonds created by our mortal vessels, other people, and the universe.
Obdurin now wondered, And the Gods?
He let the voices go and focused on his breathing. He hadn’t noticed when it happened, but the temperature had dropped. An image of Sunder surreptitiously tweaking the thermostat popped into his mind
. He smiled but let the notion go. His mind could be such a childish thing at times.
Time passed, and Obdurin existed quietly in the moment. Finally, refreshed and balanced, he drew in a deep breath and let his hands fall from his lap to the floor. His knuckles brushed cold stone to either side of him where he’d expected the rough weave of his meditation mat.
He listened intently but heard nothing.
The stone beneath him was similar in texture to the tiles beneath the mat where he meditated, but when he turned his hands to feel the floor, fine grains of dust rolled beneath his fingertips as he slid them along the stone. The small tomyton that quietly hummed around his room would never have allowed the dust to persist within its jurisdiction.
Obdurin listened for the tomyton, but there was no sound. The tomyton and the city below were silent.
Still calm from his meditation, Obdurin opened his eyes.
His room was gone, and the sky above him was a black void with neither stars nor ambient light from Peak City.
A woman said, “Some people think it’s beautiful.”
Obdurin lowered his gaze from the sky to the woman. She sat on a basalt bench against a background of deepest black that made it impossible to judge distance. She wore a light, white dress open at the neck with long flowing sleeves that exposed a slice of both arms from her shoulders to her wrists.
“I’m not one of them,” Obdurin said. “The absence of light indicates an absence of life.”
She smiled at his answer. “Aren’t your meditations intended to remove the distractions of life?”
“My meditations prepare me for life.”
The bench she sat on formed a circle with the same circumference as the tower that housed his audience chamber and the private room above. He didn’t think the similarity was a coincidence. He glanced around and saw the same impenetrable darkness past the benches in every direction.
The floor beneath him was cracked, gray and black basalt blocks.
The woman returned Obdurin’s scrutiny but stayed silent. Obdurin had never seen her before, and despite her calm demeanor, he realized she’d brought him here as a display of her power and was watching his reaction. The natural thing to do was rise and demand to know where he was.
Obdurin closed his eyes to relax his senses and allowed himself to drift in the absence of all things. Like a kite on a string, his mind twitched in the woman’s direction, but Obdurin ignored it. His mind was an unruly thing, and the best he could hope for was a mutually beneficial coexistence with it.
When he opened his eyes again, the woman had moved and stood on a bench looking out at the darkness with nothing between her and it. Obdurin hadn’t heard her move.
He allowed himself five smooth breaths before unfolding himself to stand. He looked up at the void again.
“There was a time I would have reacted quite differently to finding myself alone in the night with a beautiful woman.”
She turned to look at him. Her demeanor was no longer so calm. Faint lines around her eyes betrayed her concern.
Good, Obdurin thought. You might have power over me, but I’ll not increase its potency by playing the frightened rabbit.
After a moment of silence, the woman said, “I thought you were a monk before you were a Chosen.”
“Yes, but I was never a very good monk.”
The woman blushed at his words.
You old fool, Obdurin chastised himself, but he was pleased to have thwarted her expectations.
He stepped up onto the bench next to the woman and looked out and down. If the platform was held up by anything, he couldn’t see it.
Rhysin’s heart was cold against his wrist and, he realized with a jolt, he couldn’t feel Rhysin in his mind.
The woman must have noticed his attention go to Rhysin’s heart because she said, “Rhysin’s attention is elsewhere this evening. It’s a new moon, and he is busy indulging himself with the maidens you prepared for him.”
Obdurin almost snapped, I know! How could I forget? But he stopped himself, and his throat tightened.
The woman continued, “You will have new dimin in the morning I think, these maidens are strong. Though you will need to replace them.”
Ignoring his guilt, Obdurin said, “They all volunteered.”
“Of course, what woman could resist exchanging her life for the chance to be touched by a God?”
“Some people believe more than others,” Obdurin said.
The woman nodded. “Some people know more than others.”
Unsure how to respond, Obdurin looked around again and asked, “What is this place?”
“It’s part of Rhysin’s realm,” she said. “But don’t worry. We’re safe.”
“I have nothing to fear from Rhysin,” Obdurin said. “Why are we here?”
A sad smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “I am a refugee.”
Surprised, Obdurin said, “You look like a queen.”
“Once, perhaps, but not anymore.”
“What are you fleeing from?” Obdurin asked.
“Love.”
Obdurin stared out into the darkness. Colors shifted in the distance, but he dismissed them as his mind’s conjuring. When he meditated, his mind reacted to the sensory deprivation in the same way, playing its childish make-believe.
“I came here directly, more or less, from Fralit Mars,” the woman said. “I need sanctuary.”
“Tralit d’Arathan is not a man to be denied.” Obdurin’s heart beat hard in his chest. The Dragon. He silently repeated Frake’s words, I hold a God’s heart. I shall fear no man.
“No, he is not,” the woman agreed.
Obdurin composed himself before speaking again. “My dear, if you know these secret ways, why do you need my help?”
“Life cannot persist in these realms. We are not meant to be here. My husband has not—”
“Husband?” Obdurin asked. “Then you are—”
“Cherry. You can call me Cherry. As I was saying, my husband has not had dealings with you or the people of Rhyne for a long time. If you allow me to stay, anonymity will be my protector.”
“Anonymity? You are the wife of Tralit d’Arathan. How can you expect to stay anonymous?”
“The same way I always have. I have walked this land for longer than most, but my face is known only to a few. I was there when the last of the Dragon Lords fell, and the True Gods enslaved their people. I was there when your Gods were born, and when Frake placed Rhysin’s heart on his wrist.”
When the Gods were born? Obdurin thought. She knows less than she pretends. The Gods were bound five hundred years ago, not born.
“You knew Frake?” Obdurin asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. Through Frake’s writing, Obdurin detected a kindred spirit. The popular stories portrayed a fierce warrior, but Obdurin suspected Frake’s mind had been his most deadly weapon.
“I knew him best as a man,” Cherry said. “He was still remarkable, but the passage of time dims all things. His fire burned the brightest when he was a boy. You’ve heard the stories. Many people believe they are exaggerations, but they are not. He was that remarkable and more. His arrogance rivaled the Gods.”
“Great men cannot be judged by the standards of merely nice men,” Obdurin said the words as they occurred to him. Is that the answer I seek? Must I cast off my compassion to be successful?
“Then you understand my love for my husband?”
Obdurin nodded. “And your fear.”
No, I must retain my compassion now more than ever. That price is too high, Obdurin told himself.
“I do love my husband, but he stands in awe of his power, and it blinds him. I am afraid when you understand him, he is easy to manipulate, and I do not wish to manipulate him. He can live with his power and the consequences of his actions, but I do not think I can.”
“You may stay, but if Tralit comes looking for you, I will not oppose him. I cannot,” Obdurin said.
“He will not
,” Cherry said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I will arrange an accident for myself. He will learn of my death.”
Obdurin thought for a moment. His mind clear from the day’s frustrations something occurred to him. “Not an accident,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“A murder,” Obdurin said. “A mystery to keep him busy.”
Cherry was silent for a moment. Finally, she asked, “Is this the price for sanctuary?”
Obdurin would have preferred it went unsaid, but he nodded. “I have dangerous enemies. I will plant seeds, nothing more, against the day I need to call in payment.”
The idea surprised Obdurin. Does considering casting aside my compassion mean in truth the process has already begun? Realizing it must, he thought, I shall tolerate a lessening of compassion for my peers, but that is as far as I will go.
“I should not have told you how easily Tralit is manipulated.”
You were prepared to pay the price, or you wouldn’t have told me, Obdurin thought. He asked, “Will you return to Frake’s Peak with me now?”
“No. I would like to be alone for a while.” Cherry turned to examine the darkness again. “I am sorry I interrupted your meditation.”
Obdurin retreated. He resumed his position on the floor and closed his eyes. Internal stillness was beyond him as he chased endless possibilities. The idea that it might be possible to manipulate Tralit d’Arathan had come to him easily. He still didn’t know how that manipulation might play out, but he would put the pieces in place against the day he needed it.