Warsinger

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “I do.” The shadow bowed again.

  Davri lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “We have a strong oral history in my family, Sage Mehkhet, a history spanning fifty generations. We know that the earliest iteration of our family name was Ha'Shazir. We do, in fact, trace back to the fourth daughter of Sachara. Do you know who that was?”

  “Lavinya Ha'Shazir,” Mehkhet rasped. “She was Sachara's most trusted general in the Early Old Kingdom, otherwise known as the Age of the Elephant.”

  “Indeed.” Davri seemed pleased for the first time I'd seen her now that she was talking about her favorite subject: herself. “Now, we know that until about the sixteenth generation hence, when the Khemmemu nomads invaded and overthrew the Ha'Shazir Dynasty, our surname changed from Ha'shazir to Ha'Fadi, and then later on, to Ha'Fadir. So, based on that lineage, would you say I am the most direct heir alive today?”

  It was strange, but I had a distant sense of Mehkhet's emotions. The undead didn't feel fear or anxiety, but he had something close to it - an urgency to tell the truth. The truth, in this instance, was that Davri was a creepy degenerate and Suri was more closely related. But even though he had free will, it was still subordinate to mine, and I wanted him to tell Davri what she wanted to hear.

  Mehkhet rested the tips of his fingers together. “I should need to compare some records to validate your oral history, but if it is true, then absolutely, my queen. You would, in fact, be the most direct descendant of Sachara.”

  Davri beamed. It was not a pleasant expression.

  “Wonderful,” she sighed, leaning on the arm of her lovely wood and gold chair. “Because everything I just told you was absolute utter bullshit.”

  There was a pregnant pause.

  “In fact...” Davri's gaze slid back to Suri, and lingered there. “The most direct descendant of Sachara is my little sister. And I know that for certain, because the Architects who created her are standing right behind you.”

  Chapter 41

  Suri went rigid. Karalti gasped. Vash immediately turned, but neither he or I, with my wraparound vision, could see anything... until the air shimmered, and the oddest pair of men I'd ever seen stepped out of thin air.

  The one the right was gigantic: large enough he had to stoop to fit inside the doorway. He was built like some incel guy's ideal of masculinity, all chest and arms and abs, with a face so hard-cut it was polygonal. He dwarfed everyone and everything in the room, especially the guy next to him. The Hulk's companion was no taller than Rin, skinny and wiry, with a thick mop of black curly hair. He had big, watery brown eyes, but was fundamentally good-looking... except for the cringing air of cowardice that hung around him like a bad smell. Both of them wore spellgloves.

  Suri’s nostrils flexed, and her eyes blazed with heat as she reached for her sword.

  “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” The big one leered down at us, but he only had eyes for Suri. “Long time no see, Princess.”

  I took a step forward, teeth bared. The smaller guy – Jacob, pulled a dagger that looked just like the sword the assassin had tried to permakill us with. Vash caught my shoulder and pulled me back.

  Davri yawned. “So, yes. I am not descended from anyone special, really. There were many, many tens of thousands of our people, the Aga, now known as the Fireblooded, brought to this world as slaves. Sachara was but one of those Aga. Exceptional in some ways, mediocre in others. There is no reason for me to claim heritage from her, except to motivate the fools who imagine her dynasty as some 'Golden Age'... but to do that, I have to put on a convincing act.”

  Even Mehkhet seemed taken aback. “The lineage you listed was correct. Well-researched...”

  “Of course it is,” Davri snapped. “I am the smartest person in this stupid little city and have been for my entire life, which is why you are dead and I am not.”

  “You claim to know where Sachara's tomb is. Was that a lie?” The sage was bristling now, the shadow-stuff that made up his body coiling and bubbling with rage.

  “No. That is true.” Davri got to her feet and stretched. “And what is also true is that the vault containing all of Sachara's treasures can only be opened by one of her blood... a ritual I will have to perform if I am to command the loyal legions of revolutionaries clamoring for someone other than the pathetic excuse for a Sultir we endure. But, no one said that blood had to be mine.”

  “You got no idea what you just handed me.” Suri’s voice was low, calm and level. “You know none of you are leaving this room, don't you?”

  “You've gotten really full of yourself, little girl,” the big guy - Nicolas, I was guessing - boomed out in a broad Californian accent tinged with something East of Europe. “We’re Architects. We made this world. We made you, and we’ll kill you.”

  “Yeah! You’d think the assassin would have been enough warning!” Jacob said. He had a high-pitched, sniveling voice.

  Suri’s eye twitched. “That assassin that attacked Hector and Karalti was meant for me?”

  Karalti stiffened at the same time I did.

  “Holy shit. He attacked us in the duchess suite, didn't he?” I said to her. “He thought- “

  “-That Suri would be there,” Karalti finished grimly. “It wasn’t Baldr at all.”

  Jacob drew himself up. “If you hadn’t come here looking for us, we wouldn’t have to P.K you. But we can, you know. We can kill you and all of your friends, permanently.”

  “You spawned that fucking Admin sword?” I couldn't control myself any more. “That fucking player killer weapon?”

  “Don't kid yourself,” Jacob sniffed. “We can't 'spawn' anything like that. We cached some and some other stuff items ages ago, in case we ever needed them. You know... in case of you-know-who.”

  “He's not Voldemort, you little shitwipe. His name was Michael.” Nicolas began to laugh. “Or Ororgael, if you want to stick with the lore. But that guy’s history, so now, they're all for Suri. There's more where those came from, baby.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” I regarded the pair in disbelief. “That assassin you sent fucked up, and he nearly PK’d me. You're talking about killing people. Real people. Not anime NPC bullshit. Actual fucking people.”

  “Oh? You didn’t know?” Nicolas pulled his head back, like he'd just smelled something bad. “Princess over there is some Pacific Alliance brain rip. She's just test data. The US military uses that same rip all the time for their sims.”

  Suri pulled her axes from her belt, and flipped them over in her hands.

  “We got her kind to thank for HEX,” Jacob said. His thin voice had a nasty overtone to it now, sugary and venomous.

  Karalti growled, stepping up to Suri's left. Behind us, I saw Davri stand.

  “Sit the fuck down, Davri,” I snapped.

  “Oh! It speaks Dakhari.” She clapped her hands. “Well, it's useless. While you were talking, the Sultir's soldiers have been taking position outside. Apparently, some Fireblooded terrorist massacred two score witchhunters in Martyr's Square. A terrible crime, nothing we want in our city. So, if you'll excuse me.”

  I pulled the Spear out of my Inventory and into a fighting stance. The Mark of Matir flared on the back of my hand, drawing the cold, shaking anger out of my body and channeling it into a pillar of black fire that roared to life along the blade and haft of the weapon. “You're not excused.”

  Jacob cringed, but Nicolas roared with laughter. “Aww man, look at this. A white knight necromancer? Now I’ve seen everything.”

  I didn’t know what level these two were, but I knew they were higher than us. No fewer than four turrets were mounted in this hall, and the compound outside was full of cartel guards and royal soldiers. Even so, we had no choice: all we could do now was fight.

  “Oh, no. No, no, no, I disagree. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Suri left off her sword and drew her axes instead, flipping them over in her hands. “You might have made this place, but according to Hector here, you’re stuck in Arche
mi and can’t get back to your world. And you know what that means, don’t you? I’m not locked in here with you fuckers. You’re locked in here with me.”

  She activated her Rage ability, stripping her armor down. I boosted myself with Mantle of Night, and darted forward at my full enhanced speed.

  “ALA’VORTHIS!” Nicolas boomed, throwing up a hand.

  [Nicolas tha Giant casts Antimagic Sphere!]

  “What are you-!” Davri shrieked as the antimagic field swept over us. It was all she got out before my dragon exploded.

  Chapter 42

  Karalti roared as her body suddenly turned incandescent, then violently reverted back to dragon form. Davri’s house was definitely not dragon-sized, and the sudden release of Karalti’s spell burst out with a magical shockwave that tore apart the flimsy slum adobe walls and drove us to the ground. My hearing cut into a thin whine as the sound and pressure blew out my eardrums with a sharp head-splitting pain.

  [Warning! Mana levels are dangerously high!]

  [Warning: You are suffering from mana poisoning! -5 HP per second!]

  [You take 338 concussive damage!]

  [Karalti takes 1010 explosive damage!]

  [Karalti has Internal Bleeding!]

  [Karalti is Lacerated! -1 HP and -5 MP per second!]

  We were lucky to be as close to Karalti as we were. When I uncovered my head, I found her standing over us, shielding me, Suri, and Vash from the collapsing ceiling. The main building was now a smoldering shell on one side, the side that opened into the first courtyard. A small army was pouring into the courtyard: Sandstriders, quazi, hookwings…

  Jacob gave a girly shriek and ran for the door, only to skid to a stop as the arch and the walkway above it collapsed with a crash. Nicolas’s brick-shaped face was a mask of shock – and he didn’t react in time as Suri bellowed a war-cry and charged him.

  I pulled myself up, searching for Vash. He was coughing violently, his mechanical arm sagging by his side. Suri had some resistance to mana and was immune to Stranging, but Vash was not. I left the girls to fight and scrambled over to him.

  “Come on!” I hauled up under his shoulder and half carried, half dragged him away from the mana gushing from Karalti’s neck. The dragon roared again, drowning out the sounds of battle as Suri clashed with Nicolas. When Vash was out of the way, he gave me the thumbs up. I left him to recover and dashed back in.

  “Hey! You!” Davri screamed at me on the way past. She was trapped beneath a heavy hardwood beam, crushed into the remains of her throne. Blood poured from her mouth as she struggled to free herself. “Get me out of here! Get me out!”

  I stopped, and looked down at her.

  Davri was the picture of a weeping damsel in distress now, her voice quavering on every word. “You! Please, I beg you, get me out! I’ll give you whatever you want! Whatever you need! Money, women-”

  “The location of Sachara’s Tomb,” I said.

  The woman forced a chuckle. “Is that what this was all about? Does that big brawny b-bitch want to become queen so badly? Or… is it you? Is power is what you want? Ha-ha-haa… clever man. You’re using her, aren’t you?”

  I sniffed, checked the battle, then looked back down at her. “You know something? Other than Baldr Hyland, you are the singly most boring person I have ever met.”

  “Then you know nothing about either me, or Emperor Hyland.” Davri bared her bloody teeth at me, an expression that faded as I turned to rejoin Karalti and Suri.

  “Wait!” she cried. “Don’t leave me like this!”

  The terror in her voice gave me pause. I half-turned back, gripping the Spear tightly. The weapon was still billowing with black flames that coiled and streamed off into the air.

  “I won’t.” I drew a deep breath, and rushed back at her.

  [Shadow Lance deals 3262 damage!]

  [You have killed Davri the Laundress! You gain 2021 EXP!]

  [Congratulations! You are Level 25!]

  [You have one new Mark of Matir ability]

  [You gain a new Badge: Clean the Streets!]

  [Congratulations! You are the first to achieve this Badge. You get 500 bonus EXP!]

  [You have found: 1 x Promissory Note for 50000 Dinar (10,000 olbia); Davri’s Dagger, Bangle of the Master Thief, Mother’s Coin.]

  Numbness rolled through me as I pulled the Spear blade out of the back of Davri’s head and assessed the rest of the battle. Karalti was still standing. Vash was fighting Davri’s guards at the remains of the garden entrance. Suri was locked in combat with Nicolas, now bleeding heavily from several massive slashes across his chest and arms. Jacob was cowering near the doorway, his spellglove destroyed, and screamed as another hunk of plaster and wood dislodged and smashed down right near the end of his feet.

  “Hector! Help! My mana's almost gone! I'm gonna pass out!” Karalti spat fire into the mob as the Sandstriders dashed around through the bent and twisted gates toward the house.

  “Coming!” I left Davri’s half-frozen corpse and Shadow Danced to Karalti’s side.

  The Sandstriders were headed right for us. Karalti recoiled, nearly crushing me as she limped back, opened her jaws, and sprayed both machines with a whip of blinding white liquid flames. The guards' bravado turned to terror as the Ghost Fire slagged the Sandstrider's spindly legs and pitched them to the ground. Molten metal splattered everywhere.

  “Karalti! Come down here! I have to stop the bleeding!” I chugged a potion, then pulled the dragon-sized potions I'd brewed at home: two full gallon jugs of Green Moss Tinctures.

  Karalti swung her head down and opened her jaws. I poured them in, ignoring the enervation of the mana. I saw Nicolas break away from Suri, then turn and lumber into the surging crowd of goons with my girlfriend in hot pursuit.

  [You heal Karalti for 400 Damage!]

  [Karalti is no longer bleeding!]

  “We need to get the hell out of here,” I muttered. Karalti’s blood was boiling and crawling along the ground, as if magnetically drawn to the corpses of Davri and the slaves. “Like, right now. Vash! Suri!”

  “Coming, dear!” Vash trilled. He had a guard’s head trapped under his arm – an ex-guard, as he flexed, wrenched, and broke the man’s neck.

  As soon as Nicolas was outside the range of his own anti-magic sphere, he snarled the words of a spell. There was a familiar push of unseen force through the air, and he vanished.

  “NO!” Suri screamed after Nicolas, charging heedlessly toward the oncoming tide, even as the wailing cries of quazi pierced the din of battle. “GET BACK HERE, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!”

  “Karalti! Grab Jacob, but don’t kill him!” I Jumped onto Karalti’s back as Vash slid into a mass of shadows, then appeared on the saddle beside me. “Suri! Come on!”

  Suri wasn’t listening. Consumed with rage, she struck down soldier after soldier, ignoring half a dozen bloody cuts on her face and torso. She didn’t even see Jacob, cowering under the rubble of the walkway with his arms over his face.

  “Fuck. Karalti, grab her too!” I dropped down to clench the saddle grips. “Hold on!”

  Karalti let out a piercing cry as she thundered forward, mantling her wings. Jacob’s cries turned to squeals as the dragon speared him out of the wreckage like a heron catching a fish, bulldozed her way out of the fragile retaining wall, and snatched Suri in one hand. She built up speed, scattering mobs out of the way, and flung herself into the air – what air there was. We were in the undercity, and the plates supporting the level above us were barely a hundred and fifty feet over our heads. There were pillars, chains, drains, catwalks and who-knew-what else hanging over the buildings.

  “Head for the ocean! West!” I bent down over Karalti’s back like a motorcycle racer, the Region Map hanging open in my HUD.

  “I’m trying! But those quazi are right on-URGH!” she moaned as a bullet impacted her scales and split one. “Suri! Stop struggling!”

  There was a screech behind us, the sound of an eagle on steroids. I le
t go of the saddle grips and turned to see a pair of quazi hurtling toward us, beaks open, talons outstretched. Vash swore and flattened himself down, but I was a second too slow. One of them snatched me in its claws and dragged me up. It was so strong that the armor buckled in its grip, crushing my shoulder and armpit. I thrust the Spear up under its wing, only to have it caught by the rider's weapon, some kind of hooked polearm I'd never seen before.

  I wasn't getting anywhere with the Spear, so I started punching the bird-like dinosaur up under the keel. It screeched with irritation, swinging me in its feet to try and stop me from laying into it. “Hey! If you're going to drop me, you bastard, you better get nice and high!”

  “Hector! Hold on! I’m coming!” Karalti’s body was arrow-straight, wings pumping as she closed on the birds now striving to get away from her. My ride banked sharply, but there was no escape while they were carrying me. I was heavy, and Karalti was gaining.

  “Have a nice fall!” the rider called, voice sugary with sarcasm. He whistled, and the quazi dropped me before it surged off into the sky.

  I dropped like a stone. Heart pounding, I spread all four limbs out and reequipped my Raven Suit and helmet.

  “You're falling too fast to land on me!” Karalti cried. “I'm going to catch you in my hand. Don't fuck this up!”

  I turned in the air like a skydiver, using my hands and feet like paddles. The air around me was lifting, driven up by the power of the dragon's wings as she strove toward me. Quazi were gathering behind her in formation, but even after losing a huge amount of blood, carrying Suri in one hand, Jacob in her jaws, and Vash on her back, Karalti could outfly every one of them. She stretched her arms toward me, and I saw what I needed to do to survive this and not become a Hector pancake.

  “Keep them out like that! Don't try and snatch me!” I tucked my shoulders in and dropped my head down to dive.