Severance Lost (Fractal Forsaken Series Book 1)

by Unknown

  The orderly turned and ran. Sana said to Ibson, “You are now committed to this ruse. You are a mentally ill patient holding a knife against someone’s throat. No one will believe otherwise.” Somewhere ahead, the orderly triggered a security orb and the alarm rang throughout the infirmary.

  They rounded the final corner and saw three infirmary wizards barring the exit to the gardens. Master Meikel was in the lead and tried to reason with Ibson. “Put the knife down. You are a good person. Whatever you are dealing with right now, we can help you through it. Just let the girl go.”

  Ibson played his role to perfection by saying.

  Step aside,

  Step aside,

  The girl won’t die,

  If my words you abide.

  Sana tried to influence the critical decision in front of the wizards. “Do as he says. He’s not himself. He could do anything…”

  Master Meikel assessed the situation and commanded the infirmary personnel. “Allow him to leave. We can’t risk harm to the girl. He has taken wormroot, so we can follow him safely. He won’t get far.” They stepped aside and cleared the path to the gardens. Ibson backed through the doorway, shielding himself with his hostage as the ruse demanded.

  The wizards followed them into the darkened gardens with the infirmary alarms fading behind them. Ibson whispered to Sana, “Now what?”

  “Head toward the rosebushes and get behind the hedge.” Ibson obliged as the infirmary wizards continued their attempts to talk down Ibson from a distance. Sana strained her eyes in the darkness and saw that the string she placed earlier in the day had been removed. Help was here.

  A figure appeared on the roof of the infirmary, outlined by the ambient light from the building below but shadowed by the night sky. “Ibson belongs to me!” The pitch of the figure’s voice alternated between words and pierced the night sky. A second later, a thick cloud of smoke enveloped the infirmary wizards.

  The Sicarius Headmaster mimicked the alternating tones of the rooftop figure, “I am the Sicarius Headmaster!” Dense smoke reflects sound and makes it difficult to pinpoint the direction of the source. By speaking from two directions, Sana knew it would be virtually impossible to identify her or Ibson’s location. She turned to Ibson and whispered, “Our extraction point is in that direction. Move as fast as you are able. I will catch up shortly.” Sana pointed toward a tall building just outside the infirmary grounds, within the capital city of Ravinai.

  From the rooftops, Sana heard, “I defy King Darik by my continued existence. He tried to kill every member of Sicarius, his sworn servants, but I am not so easily killed. Now I serve the people of Malethya, although they are blinded to the dangers they face. I rule the world of shadows. Follow me tonight and you will never see the light of day again.”

  Following that bit of theater, she chased after Ibson, catching the old man quickly. The infirmary wizards were too disoriented and busy coughing from the smoke to give chase, but the real danger still awaited them. Up ahead, the Headmaster located a tall, balconied building and quietly commanded Ibson, “Head for the alleyway just left of the building.” The Sicarius Headmaster could hear the distinctive sound of soldiers marching toward the infirmary in response to the building’s alarms, but they were still a few blocks away. They had made it.

  Inside the alleyway, Sana threw a canvas cover off a wooden platform. “Get on,” the Sicarius Headmaster commanded Ibson. He climbed onto the platform while Sana unhooked a rope hidden amid the intricate architecture of the tall building. The rope attached to the four corners of the platform and disappeared somewhere above. The Sicarius Headmaster climbed aboard the platform holding a second rope that led to a knotted anchor against the alleyway. “Hold on tight. It might be a little bumpy at the top.” She pulled on the rope which released the knot and the platform started to rise immediately, gaining speed at an astounding rate. Halfway to the top, the counterweight passed them, plummeting to the ground. Their speed continued to increase and the Sicarius Headmaster jumped gracefully onto the building’s balcony just before the counterweight smashed into the alleyway below. The sudden end to the platform’s rise jarred Ibson, but the Sicarius Headmaster reached out to steady the suspended platform as it swung from a pulley overhead and helped the old wizard onto solid ground.

  “You played your role well, Ibson.” Rosana complimented the wizard. She wanted to establish authority over Ibson, and compliments for following orders reinforced the hierarchy.

  “You left me little choice. Why did you go to all the trouble of breaking me out of there? I was perfectly happy avoiding the world.” Just then, the Sicarius Headmaster saw motion on the rooftops. The figure jumped gracefully from rooftop to rooftop and crouched above their balcony.

  “Hello Annarelle.” The Sicarius Headmaster greeted her protégé, dressed in her likeness. The series of black wraps blended into the night, allowed for a great deal of flexibility, and most importantly, innumerable folds and pockets for darts, knives and other tools of their craft. Annarelle also wore a Sicarius mask that made it difficult to look her in the face. The mask absorbed all light, creating a void in the visual signals the brain normally interpolates. The brain fills the void using information surrounding the mask. In practicality, this meant that the wearer of a Sicarius mask would be seen as a servant if they dressed in servant’s clothes, a wizard if dressed in robes, or a soldier if dressed in armor. The Sicarius Headmaster was used to both wearing and interacting with others wearing the mask, so its unsettling effect was muted. “Your timing is impeccable. I take it you found my string?”

  “I left the package in the rose bush the night you were admitted and checked at sundown every evening for a signal. When I found it, I contacted Villifor, and he had his rebels occupy the army’s attention tonight.” Sana looked at the skyline of the city and saw smoke from several fires burning, which probably slowed the response time of the troops when the alarms at the infirmary were raised. Annarelle continued, “I’m happy it didn’t take longer than a few days. How did things go inside the infirmary?”

  The Sicarius Headmaster thought of the ease in which she had been diagnosed and admitted to the infirmary. It all went according to Sana’s plan, but she decided against describing how easy it was to get a diagnosis and be admitted. “I located and extracted our target before they tried to administer therapy to me.”

  Annarelle laughed. Most people would mistake the meaning of her laugh as jest at Sana’s fear of therapy. Only a fellow Sicarius Guardsman would know the laugh’s real meaning. The laugh indicated Annarelle’s relief that Sana didn’t have to kill the wizard who attempted to treat her.

  Ibson tried to take control of the situation by demanding answers. “Pleasantries aside, when do the questions start?”

  Rosana waved Ibson toward the infirmary-facing railing of the balcony while Annarelle bounded away to scout for approaching trouble. Below the balcony, the shining armor of soldiers scoured the infirmary grounds in response to the alarms. Rosana addressed Ibson, “The Crimson Guard represents justice throughout Malethya. The armor of the Bellator Guardsmen reflects the starlight in proud proclamation of their place in society. The robes of the Ispirtu wizards are hidden in the darkness, but you can almost see them scurrying around in a righteous display of power. I once stood in their company as a stanchion of Malethya and protector of the kingdom. Now the very people I strive to protect fear me. You let this happen.”

  Ibson responded, “It’s true that I suspected a blood mage in the Malethya, but you can’t blame me for your troubles. I was put in charge of investigating how our friend, Slate Severance, the Tournament Champion, ended up with iron in his hand during his championship bout. During my investigation, it became apparent that he was a victim of blood magic. The blood mage attacked me in the Arena and nearly killed me. I hid my recovery to protect myself, so that the blood mage couldn’t come back to finish the job.”

  “You didn’t hide from the blood mage,” The Sicarius Headmaster scold
ed. “You hid from the world. You hid from responsibility.”

  Ibson shook his head in bemusement. “Responsibility is always shared, but self-preservation is the right of every man. Besides, I listened as you, Slate, Rainier, Lucus and Lattimer worked to identify the blood mage. Slate found evidence implicating Brannon Regallo and stormed Ispirtu. I hear Brannon has been defeated, the threat of blood magic is ended, and the people of Malethya are safe. If your actions resulted in the loss of the Sicarius Guild, then the responsibility lies with the Sicarius Headmaster. Don’t delude yourself.”

  The Sicarius Headmaster knew her own failures and Rose mourned the loss of the Guardsmen every night. “People that fail to act are often adept at identifying fault in the actions of others. I will not take criticism from you.” The Sicarius Headmaster’s scorn permeated her words. Groups of Bellator Guardsmen and Ispirtu wizards combed the infirmary grounds below, searching for the notorious Sicarius Headmaster. Rosana explained to Ibson, “You are as blind as the rest of Malethya. We didn’t defeat Brannon the blood mage. We defeated Brannon Regallo, the Ispirtu Headmaster and protector of Malethya. I stood at his side and fought with him before he was killed by his son Lattimer. Lattimer took control of Ispirtu and the mind of King Darik through the use of blood magic. The armies loyal to Darik fight for their king, unknowingly doing the will of Lattimer. Meanwhile, Lattimer has been growing his own army of loyal subjugates. They look and act like normal soldiers until they attack. Then their eyes turn red and they attack with pure, unbridled aggression. They attack as Furies.”

  Ibson blanched at the mention of Furies, foot-soldiers from the days of Cantor when blood mages fought incestually. Ibson refused to accept Rosana’s story. “No, Brannon was the blood mage. Lattimer was never clever enough to accomplish what you say. It is an impossibility that he controls the kingdom and an army of Furies. Besides, Furies are mindless. Their aggression stems from a single desire to kill placed in their head by a blood mage.” He pointed to toward the soldiers in the infirmary grounds. “Those soldiers aren’t mindless.”

  “No, they are not. They attack with the aggression of Furies but the training of Bellator Guardsmen and Ispirtu wizards.” Sana paused to let the reality of that threat sink in.

  “I tire of your lies. Let’s end these questions,” confronted Ibson.

  “I have told you the truth. As for questions, I have yet to ask one. However, you did ask me when the questions would start, and I have avoided answering in the hopes you would believe me. Since you refuse to see the truth, the questions will start just as soon as you wake up.” The Sicarius Headmaster reached out with her shockstick and Sana cast a spell that sent a small jolt of electricity through the wizard. Ibson fell to the balcony floor.

  Annarelle rejoined her and picked up Ibson’s legs. “I hate this part of the operation.”

  Sana, Rose, and Rosana agreed with Annarelle, but the Sicarius Headmaster knew it was part of the job. “We are Sicarius Guardsmen. We need to move and hide bodies once in a while.”

  As they prepared to move Ibson, a large contingent of Guardsmen and wizards entered the city grounds. At the head of the pack, a wizard walked with an arrogance that dwarfed the gaudiness of his robes and the scepter he carried. Even if Lattimer wasn’t her brother, she would have recognized him from a mile away. It was Lattimer’s first public appearance since seizing power, and he had apparently taken up their father’s sense of fashion as well as his air of authority. Despite the physical similarities to her father, his appearance only inspired hate. Lattimer had killed her father. He was responsible for the deaths of Lucus and Slate’s parents through the actions of Magnus. Now he enslaved hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers to do his will. For any of these atrocities, he deserved to die. The Sicarius Headmaster pulled out a throwing knife while Sana cast a spell with the pattern of a diving falcon. The knife flew straight and actually sped up as it neared Lattimer, reaching the speed of a falcon right before its talons grasped its prey.

  At the last second, the knife flew off course and embedded in the ground at Lattimer’s feet, harmlessly diverted by whatever magic Lattimer surrounded himself with. The blood mage looked down at the knife and then directly at her, locking eyes with his sister. He pointed at her as the soldiers and wizards around him turned to Furies. The soldiers sprinted toward their building and the wizards readied fireballs. Lattimer himself readied a spell and the Sicarius Headmaster didn’t want to wait to find out what type.

  “Go! Now!” She yelled to Annarelle. They flung Ibson’s body onto the next rooftop. Beneath them, the building started to shake. Lattimer planned to take down the whole building. Annarelle and the Headmaster jumped onto the adjacent rooftop just as the building was hit with a series of fireballs. It collapsed a split second later in a cloud of rubble that mixed with the smoke of wizard’s fire.

  They gathered Ibson and used the smoke and dust as a screen to mask their escape. When they were safely away from the collapsed building, they took the time to carry Ibson more comfortably. “Well, we learned one thing tonight. My throwing knives are useless against Lattimer.”

  “And if we get close enough, we run the risk of being captured and subjugated like King Darik. We need Slate. He is the only one to ever resist Lattimer.” Annarelle talked while she unwrapped a portion of her outfit around her leg. It had two long straps on either end of a fine mesh of fabric in the middle to form a makeshift stretcher.

  “Slate could only resist Lattimer for a short period of time, but you are right. It would be long enough to attack him. Unfortunately, he hasn’t recovered fully from his first encounter with Lattimer. We need Slate, but we need to fix him first. Maybe Ibson will hold the key.” They rolled Ibson’s body atop the middle portion of the stretcher, and Annarelle slung two straps over her shoulders. The Sicarius Headmaster tied the other two straps around her waist and the two set off with their cargo.

  They carried him across the rooftops of Ravinai, and while the Sicarius Headmaster handled the physical exertion, Rose and her other selves were free to look at the city anew. Rose’s heart warmed to the sounds of merriment that floated up from the taverns below. Rosana knew it wasn’t the sounds of drunkards spending their last dime on a drink but the laughter of citizens with extra change in their pockets. Sana noted the clean streets and the quality goods displayed in the store windows. The alleyways were clear of the homeless and new construction confirmed the affluence of the citizens. Ravinai’s prosperity brought conflicting emotions. When Lattimer seized power, he promised to recreate the Golden Age of Cantor with his unlimited power. It appeared that he was living up to his promise, but Sana knew the golden ages ended in bloodshed with the blood mages subjugating citizens and using them as mindless weapons in their never-ending thirst for power. Rose hoped she could get answers before the prosperity ended and the bloodshed began.

  With the fear of the future refocusing her efforts, the Sicarius Headmaster checked on Ibson. He was still unconscious as they approached an abandoned warehouse. The Sicarius Headmaster had a network of safe houses and informants in Ravinai and throughout Malethya. When King Darik destroyed the Sicarius Guild, she relocated her headquarters to this warehouse, one of her more secretive locations. The warehouse’s proximity to the infirmary’s morgue proved to be an advantageous location for some of Sana’s needs.

  The Sicarius Headmaster and Annarelle hauled Ibson’s body onto the rooftop of the abandoned warehouse and toward a ventilation shaft that served as the hideout’s entrance. The ventilation shaft hid a ladder and a winch. The winch was for supplies or, in this case, a body. They hooked the straps of Ibson’s stretcher to the winch and lowered him into the darkness until the winch stopped. The Headmaster and Annarelle descended the ladder to a small platform that inconspicuously hung from the rafters of the warehouse.

  Annarelle lit a small oil lamp that lit their entrance while giving dim glimpses of warehouse below them. The floor of the warehouse was covered with row upon row of shelving that
once served as a distribution center for the king’s supply of grain and stores. The offices suspended from the warehouse ceiling, so that the king’s clerks and foreman could oversee the workers below and keep stock of warehouse supply. The stairwell that originally connected the offices to the warehouse floor was destroyed in a fire that was extensive enough to cause the building to be abandoned. The result was the perfect hideout – the warehouse offices were isolated and difficult to infiltrate. They were also heavily modified to fit her needs.

  Sana reached up to a pulley system that connected the platform to the offices. She hooked Ibson’s stretcher up to the pulley hook before disconnecting him from the winch. “Annarelle, can you welcome our guest?” Annarelle smiled and swung freeform across the rafters, easily bridging the gap between the platform and the offices while Sana worked the pulley system. Ibson’s body hung lifelessly as it traversed the span into Annarelle’s waiting arms. She disconnected him and the Sicarius Headmaster swung across the rafter’s to join them. “His room is prepared for his arrival. Please tie him to his chair and meet me in the anatomy room.”

  Table of Contents

  REFLECTION OF REGRET

  A LEAF IN THE WIND

  STONEHANDS

  INVESTIGATIONS

  AN ALLY LOST

  ESCAPE FROM RAVINAI

  CAMPFIRE STORIES

  AN ALLY LEAVES

  HOMECOMING

  REFLECTION OF REGRET

  GUILD LIFE

  PEACE, IN VARIOUS FORMS

  MAY THE WORST MAN WIN

  PAIN TOLERATED

  REFLECTION OF REGRET

  HOUSE OF CARDS

  AN UNSANCTIONED MISSION

  A FURIOUS BATTLE

  A NECESSARY CHOICE

  SIMPLIFYING THE EQUATION

  SLIDING FILAMENTS ALIGN