by Matt Russell
"Hello," he said in a gentle voice.
Iona looked at him and began to breathe very quickly. She turned her head from side to side, gaping at the forest brush that slowly passed them by as the wagon rode onward. Arkas could sense her terror. It was almost animalistic.
"Try to remain calm," he said in a soothing tone, the way he did when he was toying with one of his victims in the Nemesai dungeons.
The girl let out a gasp and stumbled forward on the floor of the cart. Arkas gazed into the chaos of her mind. She had discovered that her wrists had been tied behind her back. He watched as a pair of tears formed in her amber eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
"Who are you?!" Iona managed to sob.
"You don't need to know my name." Arkas knelt down over her in the cart. He had rummaged through her mind for the past few hours as she slept, taking in memories of the weak little man, Hervin, the cruel obese woman, Lady Sondal, and... Livia. "I am far more dangerous than your mistress ever was. If you defy me or try to run, I'll take a limb off." He made a lazy gesture at the cart wall just to the left of Iona’s head and sent a burst of invisible power through his fingertips. The wood exploded in a loud and violent spray of splinters, and she screamed in terror and shrank down.
Arkas suppressed a grin. The girl had more power in her than any Starborn who ever lived, but she did not know that. He had studied her sleeping mind in depth and ascertained that she was not a stupid creature but was almost ridiculously humble and unselfish. Even now, he could sense her sifting through the memories of her capture and then jumping to an illogical concern.
"D-did you kill Livia?"
Arkas could not help but chuckle. "That is what you want to know most right now? Not if I'm going to cut you into bits or do any number of unspeakable things to you?"
"Is she alive?" Iona squeaked, more tears rolling down her face.
Arkas sighed. "I did not kill that thing you think of as your sister if it makes you happy. Actually, she's out scouring the countryside for you right now with that imbecile father of yours. We lost them hours ago, but I have a man keeping an eye on the two of them." He leaned in closer to the trembling girl and whispered: "I can have them both killed anytime I wish."
"NO!" Iona shrieked. "Please, I beg you!"
"Relax," he said. He reached up and gently stroked the side of her head with his right hand, running the two fingers he still had through her hair, which she endured in silence. "I left them alive for you." He cast her a hard smile. So many of the poor folk he had had in his dungeons thought of themselves as selfless souls, but when he had shown them true pain, most lost all concern for their children and loved ones and became obsessed only with their own survival. Still, a few prisoners here and there had surprised him, holding fast to their innocence through any degree of suffering, yet confessing immediately and offering their own lives the minute he threatened their loved ones. Courage... This girl had that kind of soul—illogical, but simple to manipulate. "That will be our contract,” he said. “You will do whatever you are told and make no attempt to escape, and I will allow that fat little man and the mute freak to continue to breathe."
"Uh!" the girl whimpered. She processed his words for several heartbeats and then whispered: "I…I'll do anything."
Arkas blinked at her. She meant the words. He almost respected the little slave girl in that moment, and it made him uncomfortable. He turned away from her sickeningly sincere brown eyes and reminded himself that she was a tool, and one that he would use mercilessly.
"Is that... uh...him, boss?" Dunlin said from the front of the cart.
Arkas sensed a sharp jolt of fear from his subordinate. He shut his eyes and sent out his Starborn senses, and almost immediately he perceived the swell of trapped dragon's power tattooed into the hulking mass of unnatural flesh. "Yes, that is Gorlick," he said with a grin.
Arkas had kept his half-ogre companion separate from his other servants for several reasons, not the least of which being that Gorlick disliked being around men whom he perceived to be sniggering at his appearance when he was not looking. Arkas's other comrades were crass men—the kind Gorlick might rip into a half dozen pieces over the wrong choice of words.
"Do not look him in the eyes," he said in a soft voice to Dunlin.
"Y-yeah," Dunlin said in a raspy whisper, and he shrank in his seat on the cart.
"Come over here, my friend," Arkas shouted. He rose and gazed over the sidewall of the cart to see the massive cloaked figure emerge from the trees and come bounding toward them.
Dunlin's breathing quickened, and he whispered: "Make sure he knows... I'm a friend."
"Relax,” Arkas said. “I have no intention of driving this cart back myself.” He turned and extended his left hand to Iona and said: "Stand up. There is someone I wish you to meet."
The girl's face paled as she extended her hand and allowed him to pull her up. When she looked over the cart wall and saw Gorlick coming, she drew in a gasp and stumbled backward.
"You'll have to get used to my associate," Arkas said, gazing down at her. "Get back up." This time he did not extend his hand but sent invisible tendrils of magic out around the girl and brought her forcefully back to a standing position. By the time she was on her feet, Gorlick was at the side of the cart, glaring at her with bulbous yellow eyes from under his hood.
"Who the hell's this?" Gorlick grunted.
"This is Iona," Arkas said in a calm voice. "She is what the Norn sent me to find."
"What?!" the half-ogre snarled. He leaned in closer, looking Iona up and down. Arkas was still holding her with his magic, but she had enough freedom of movement to tremble and breathe very quickly under Gorlick's gaze. "A girl? Are you having a laugh with me?" His voice started to rise.
"Afraid not," Arkas said. "This girl is the weapon I was promised." As he spoke the words, he cocked his head at Iona. Trembling though she was, the little slave was listening to this exchange and trying to make sense of her situation. That could be dangerous. Her mind was incredibly easy to gaze into, which could be a problem if he were forced to bring her around other telepaths. Arkas raised his hand and whispered: "Anaskath Niung." A translucent swirl of magic leaped from his hand and shot directly into Iona's forehead. She let out a brief whimper, and then her eyes rolled back into her head as her mind entered a magical trance. With her in this state, Arkas was able to reach inside her brain and obliterate the last few seconds of memory.
"We shouldn't tell her what she is," Arkas said.
Gorlick peered at the girl and muttered: "And what is she?"
Arkas let out an exasperated sigh. "I haven't completely deciphered that yet. There is power unlike anything I've ever seen inside her—it's not magic, it's…stronger than magic."
Gorlick stared at Iona for a few seconds longer, then grunted: "Is she dangerous?"
"I don't think so," Arkas said. "She had a knife to her throat, and she did nothing. I was going to kill the person she loved most, and she did nothing. The energy inside her doesn't respond to anything she thinks or feels—it doesn't even protect her from my magic." He met Gorlick’s asymmetrical eyes. "All the same, this simple slave girl may have more power in her than even the great dragon."
Gorlick frowned. "How? Why?"
"I don't know."
"Can you bend her power to your will?"
"Not yet," Arkas said, shaking his head. In truth, he had almost no more idea how to wield the energy inside the girl than she did. Trying to channel and manipulate it with his magic was a bit like trying to shape an anvil with his fingers. He did not have the strength. Still, he had her for a reason. Of that much, Arkas was certain.
"How long'll it take you to figure it out, you think?" Gorlick said.
"No idea," Arkas admitted. "Until that time, we'll need to hang on to her—keep her hidden." He sighed at the half-ogre. "She will stay with you."
"WHAT?!" Gorlick snapped. "I don't want to care for some damned girl�
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"You won't have to care for her," Arkas said, cutting his friend off. "Quite the reverse, actually. Iona's a trained house slave, and she's well used to cooking and cleaning. Your home would benefit a great deal from her touch I think."
The half-ogre’s lips curled back, revealing his thick, jagged teeth as he snarled: "I don't want another person out there with me!"
"WELL TOO GODS-DAMNED BAD!" Arkas snapped back.
Gorlick let out something like a low growl, and as he did, the dark hood fell away. Arkas gazed upon his handiwork. Deep blue tattoos covered every part of Gorlick's bulbous face. Arkas had followed the basic foundational runes the Onkai and Nemesai used, but he had taken the so-called "apotheosis" process much further. The half-ogre’s body was far more resilient than that of any human, and so Arkas had imbued him with far, far more ink from the dragon's tears than anyone would dare put upon a man. Gorlick was so terribly strong now, and his flesh so difficult to harm even with battle magic, that Arkas wondered at times if his creation could overpower him. Still, he stared hard into the enormous yellow eyes, knowing better than to show fear to the monster.
"This slave is very possibly the most powerful weapon in the world," he said in a calmer voice. "Gods know why, but she is. We would be insane to throw her away, and I cannot bring her back with me to the Nemesai. Cromlic is slipping, but he's still one of the most powerful telepaths in the world." Arkas dared to put a hand on his massive friend's shoulder and added: "I need Iona where no one can find her, and with someone with enough strength to guard her. Placing her with you is the best option on both counts." He squeezed the dense flesh and said: "Please, my friend.”
Gorlick's jaw clenched, and his brown-stained fangs gnashed against one another for a few seconds. Then he looked to the side and muttered: "I'll work her hard."
"That's fine," Arkas said. "You cannot beat her though—at least not much. I need her healthy, and also, I'm not certain what would happen if you killed her. You and your home and several of the surrounding mountains could be obliterated in half a second."
"Hmm," Gorlick grunted.
"Dunlin will bring you supplies every so often," Arkas said.
"W-what?" Dunlin said, his tattooed face going a little pale as he turned to face Arkas. "I—I would really prefer not to—"
"You will bring them supplies," Arkas said in an icy voice. "A fitting response to that is yes, sir," he narrowed his eyes, "or have you suddenly become insubordinate?”
"Uh... no, sir," Dunlin said in a dry whisper. "I'll do whatever you command, sir."
Arkas stared at the man for a moment, considering the possibility of burning his skin in a few carefully selected places. Perhaps later. He turned back to Gorlick. "Can you get her back to the hideout by yourself?"
The half breed stared at Iona, whose eyes were still rolled back in her head, and he gave a low chuckle. "I think I can manage."
"Good. I knew I could count on you." He shifted his gaze back to the girl but continued speaking to Gorlick: "Do not tell her anything about who I am or why she's important. I took her from her family to serve you—my secret soldier. If she starts to ask too many questions, just threaten to kill her sister and father. She'll shut her mouth then."
"Got it," Gorlick said with a slight nod.
Arkas willed the collection of spectrals he had assembled to dissipate from Iona's mind. After a few seconds, her eyes rolled forward again, and she blinked several times. She looked at Arkas, and then at Gorlick, whose grotesque face was now plain for her to see. A gasp of terror escaped her lips.
"This is your new master, Iona," Arkas said, gesturing to his friend.
"W-what?" she whimpered, looking Gorlick up and down.
"I suggest you refrain from staring," he sighed. Iona lowered her gaze but continued to pant. Arkas spoke to her in a gentle voice: "This is what you need to do to keep Hervin and Livia alive. Can you serve my friend here or not?"
"I… y-yes," Iona whispered, tears dripping from her eyes onto the cart floor.
"Good," he said. "It's a few days’ travel where you are headed. You'll go with Gorlick now. I have other business to attend to."
Iona bit her lip, hesitating, and then she said in a small voice without looking up: "Why kidnap me? You look like you could afford a dozen slaves with ease. Why attack—"
"Stop," said Arkas, and he flicked his wrist and sent his magic down into one of the floorboards near Iona's feet. It ripped up in another explosion of wooden shrapnel, and she jerked back from it with a shriek. "No questions," he whispered. "None at all, or I punish your family. Just do as you're told. Can you adapt to that?"
"Yes," Iona whispered.
"Good." He turned to Gorlick. "Take her then. I'll send Dunlin in a week or so, and I'll be out myself in a month."
"Mh," Gorlick grunted. He reached out two enormous hands and took Iona by the shoulders, lifting her as though she were weightless. She whimpered but made no attempt to struggle as he placed her in a seated position on his right shoulder. "She better be a good cook," he snarled, and then he turned with the sobbing girl and walked back toward the trees.
Arkas stared at them, a cold frustration creeping through his body. Nearly five years he had waited for this weapon, and it was a silly little girl with power he had no idea how to access. It troubled him to think that a brilliant Starborn like his father, or Cassian, might have no trouble at all finding a way to use Iona if they ever got their hands on—No! Arkas would poison her or cut her throat before he would let anyone else have her. But anyhow, there was no need. The girl was a puzzle, and despite what Cassian and the others thought, Arkas was not stupid, or weak. Soon he would kill them all.
Chapter 20:
Grandfather Spirit
"Relax," Gretis whispered into Kota's ear. "You have spent years learning to quiet your mind. That is all this is."
Kota drew in slowly, trying to comply. He was sitting atop his meditation blanket, his hands and arms in their usual position. He had spent hundreds of hours in this pose, relaxing his body, focusing on his breathing and the beat of his heart, and letting his thoughts pass into obscurity. His animus complicated that abandonment. It leaped out from him of its own free will and carried back pulses of the world around him. Kota could feel Gretis standing behind him. He felt her lips move as she spoke and the subtle movements and tension in her legs and back as she bent down. It was not like sight or sound, but something more like a sense of the world he might gain from touching if only he had tens of thousands of fingers reaching out in every direction at once.
"I am sorry," she whispered. "I can tell this is difficult for you."
"You are being so nice," Kota said with a dark laugh. "It is unnerving."
He felt Gretis's mouth curl into a smirk behind him. "Would you prefer I be stern and callous?"
"That would at least be something familiar. All of this is so alien."
"I can only imagine," she said with a slight laugh. "Your animus is developing so much faster than mine did that I have very little idea how to go about your instruction. I dare say the difference between the two of us is akin to the difference between a normal sorcerer and a Starborn."
Kota tensed as his power surged with new sensation. "I can feel the disturbance your breath makes in the air when you speak."
"Can you?" she said, the amusement plain in her tone. "That is excellent. Such perception shall become immensely useful." He felt her walk around behind him and then lean in and peer down. She lifted her hand behind his head and lifted two fingers and whispered: "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two, but your forefinger is a little closer to my hair. I can also feel that you are concealing a small dagger in your right boot and an even smaller one is strapped to a thin leather sheath under your sleeve."
"Now you are showing off."
"I might as well take some pleasure in this. My head feels like it is going to split open." He turned and opened his eye
s to look at her, and it was a relief to remember he could see. "Was it like this for you?"
"No," Gretis said with a shrug. "My animus sense came on so gradually there was no point at which I was overwhelmed." She knelt down in front of him so that they were eye to eye and said: "This is a gift, Kota. Followers of the Sansrit path work their whole lives to reach the level of connection you have managed to acquire without even trying."
Kota gazed down at the edge of the blanket where it rested unevenly over the dirt and dried leaves. "I understand the advantages this will bring in many combat situations. I will try to be strong." He found it impossible to hide the anguish in his voice completely. He had slept very little the night before. His animus sense had kept leaping down through the soil and carrying back the movement of worms and other insects far below.
Gretis gave him a sly smile and stood up. She drew the dagger he had felt in her boot, which was a simple bit of finely honed steel within a thinly carved wooden handle. Gretis cradled the hilt in her right hand while she reached down and picked up a small acorn with her left. As she rolled the brown mass between her thumb and forefinger, she said: "Kota, I think you only begin to guess at the possibilities. Perhaps I can inspire you with a small demonstration."
Gretis rose and held the acorn up so that he could see it. "I would like you to think about the Onkai soldier for a moment. He has roughly three times the strength of a normal man and can move and react far faster as well. The strength comes from the tattoos in the body of course, but the enhanced precision of movement and reflexes come from the markings on the scalp. I could not possibly explain the specifics of how the process works, but long ago the legendary Starborn, Dracus Mobius, discovered that he could stimulate specific areas of the brain through carefully controlled magic. However it works, the tattoos grant the Onkai accelerated perceptions and enhanced control over his muscles that probably exemplify the furthest limits of what the human mind can achieve. However, as you have already seen, a powerful Sansrit Master can move and react even faster, but that is only the beginning."