Executioner- Reign of Blood

by Edwin McRae

  Arix shrugged and shovelled a forkful of lentils into his mouth. Vari noticed he’d already exiled his silverbeet to the very edge of his plate. She supposed she should be thankful that he was polite enough to not simply throw it into the fire.

  The executioner pointed his empty fork at Vari. “Mark’s given me the skinny on your backstory, Vari. Spare me the optionals. But I’d love to hear what you make of the inquisitors.”

  His dismissive tone was really getting under her skin. She resisted the urge to Sculpt Bone one of his fingers. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Ever heard of Inquisitor Karina?”

  “Jesus, Arix,” snapped Mark. “Ever heard of manners? We’re not doing in-game chat mode here.”

  Arix fixed Mark with a hard look. Mark held the man’s gaze, finally forcing the executioner to look away and have another forkful of lentils. Vari felt a surge of pride for her man, pleased that he was standing up for them.

  “Sorry,” Arix muttered with his mouth still full.

  “It’s all good,” Mark reassured him. “You’ve been through a lot.” Mark gave Vari a half-smile and mouthed “Go easy on him”.

  Vari breathed in deep. Something about Arix still rubbed her up the wrong way but she would try to keep a civil tongue with him, for Mark’s sake. “Yes, I know Inquisitor Karina,” she said as she exhaled, “at least by reputation.”

  “For being a sadistic bitch-torturess?” asked Arix, his eyes hard again.

  “Sometimes, but mostly for her transmogrative work.”

  “Transmogrative?” asked Mark. “That’s a new word on me.”

  “To use magic as a transformational tool. Karina specializes in living beings.”

  Arix raised a thick, black eyebrow. With his dark, stone-smooth scalp, deep-brown skin and jet eyes, Vari thought Arix could almost pass for a Karaji. But there was something different about his features. His broad jaw and nose set him apart from her people. He was the opposite of Mark with his pale skin, hazel eyes and mop of unruly brown hair. Arix was as tall as Mark too, if not a little taller, but he was an oak tree to Mark’s slender willow. Braemar was right. Their accents were different too. While Mark’s was a warm, reedy pipe, Arix’s was a sharp and staccato bugle.

  “That’s code for ‘she makes monsters out of people’, yeah?” asked Arix.

  The screams echoed up from Vari’s memories. Screams that curdled into bestial howls. She tried to ignore them. “Pretty much.”

  “No way,” exclaimed Mark. “Hope we don’t run into any of her pets.”

  “Far as I know,” groaned Arix, “I was the only pet she brought with her from Credence.”

  “That’s where they summoned you?” asked Mark.

  “Yeah. Total fucking shithole.”

  “That we can agree on, Arix,” admitted Vari.

  Arix grinned. Vari was taken aback. He was actually quite handsome when he smiled. “And I forgot to say thanks for the food. It’s good, even without bacon.”

  She ignored the uneaten silverbeet. “Thank you.”

  “How many reivers did Karina bring with her?” asked Mark.

  “Couple of hundred at least.”

  Braemar sucked air through his teeth. “That’s a fair bit.”

  Arix shrugged. “Mostly grunts. If not for the collar, I’d have sliced through them like butter, escaped ages ago.”

  Vari sincerely doubted that but tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice. “Do you know why they’ve come to the Barrens?”

  “Not really. Karina made me capture something called the Altar of Khorlvah. That was before I ran into mummy monster back there. That name, Khorlvah, mean anything to you lot?”

  Vari shook her head. Mark and Braemar followed suit.

  Arix smirked. “Reminds me of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Nazis searching the ruins for ancient weapons.”

  Mark laughed. Vari looked to Braemar who simply shrugged. He had no idea what they were talking about either.

  “So, Arix,” asked Vari. “What’s your backstory then?” She put quote marks with her fingers around ‘backstory’.

  His smile warped into a scowl. “Executioner class. Level Six. Summoned by reivers, tortured and treated like a slave for a few weeks. Nothing much to it.”

  “I mean, before you were summoned.”

  Mark was fairly tight-lipped on the subject of his world so Vari was interested to see what she could get out of Arix. Her hopes were dashed by a single glance from Mark to Arix. Clearly, they’d already talked about this.

  Arix cleared his throat and set down his plate by the fire. “Just doing what I do now, except I had an audience.”

  “An audience? Like a pit fighter?” She’d seen pit fighting in Credence. Reivers would drink and place bets while slaves killed each other in the ring.

  “A gladiator slave?” He laughed and shook his head. “Nah. A business. Made good money too. People from all over the world would tune in to watch me play.” He winced. “Fight, I mean.”

  Player. Play. These words were coming up more often. “What do you mean when you say-”

  She was interrupted by a loud yawn. Arix stretched his arms and Vari heard several cracks as his vertebrae realigned along his spine. “Sorry, darling. Bit late for questions, innit. Past my bedtime.”

  Vari felt her lip curl all by itself. “Please don’t call me ‘darling’.”

  Arix offered her an infuriating wink. “Sorry, luv.” Then he stood and sauntered off to find himself somewhere to sleep for the night.

  “Might do the same,” added Braemar as he passed Vari his plate. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome, Braemar.”

  As the druid headed off to bed, Vari gathered up the pots, plates and cutlery and plonked them at Mark’s feet.

  He raised an eyebrow at that. “Guess I’m on dishes then?”

  “There’s a stream just through that archway over there. Just follow the silver beet plants.” She kissed Mark on the forehead. “Try not to get eaten.”

  Mark caught her hand and pulled her a little closer. “Sorry, Vari.”

  “What for?”

  “Arix, he’s…”

  “Just promise me one thing, Mark.”

  His eyes were wide and his lips were pressed into a thin line. He knew what was coming.

  “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me,” she whispered.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Everything.”

  She kissed him and felt his lips relax beneath hers. Then she gently pulled away. She didn’t look back as she walked over to their sleeping spot, but she knew it’d be a while before Mark joined her. Arix’s arrival had given them all plenty to think about.

  9

  [Mark]

  Braemar’s trail of fractures ended at a wide, open square. At its center, a towering winged goddess teetered to one side.

  Her flaming base rested in the chasm that bisected the square from corner to corner. This statue was different from the others Mark had seen so far. Her softporn physique was encased in figure-hugging armor and she gripped a cruelly-pointed trident in her hands. She reminded Mark of Britannia, Great Britain’s figurehead warrior woman.

  “Looks like an old military headquarters,” observed Arix. “That square was probably a parade ground.” He scanned the parade ground with his dark brown eyes. “Can’t see anything roaming about so that chasm’s probably a mob generator. It’ll kick into life once we get down there.”

  Mark winced. Arix had the mindset of a hardcore gamer, not a roleplayer. If he kept talking like that, Mark would end up fielding some very awkward questions from Vari and Braemar. He shot Arix a warning look. Arix rolled his eyes. Message received.

  “What I meant to say, lady and gents, is that the corruption in the chasm won’t wake up until we get close enough to sniff the stink of it,” corrected Arix. His voice oozed exasperation.

  Mark turned to Braemar. “You reckon you could close it from here?”

  The
druid shook his head. “Nope. Got to be pretty close for an Earth Sculpt of that size.”

  Arix scowled. “I get why you want to do this Cracks in Reality subquest. Probs some tidy XP in it for one and all. But what’s your plan in the long run? Wander all over this place filling up cracks like a bunch of brickies?” He stretched out his arms to encompass the immensity of the Barrens. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this place is fucking huge!”

  “Do you have a better idea?” snapped Vari.

  Her eyes were a shade darker than usual, a shadow that Mark had only seen whilst in the midst of combat. It seemed his girlfriend had taken an intense dislike to their newest party member.

  Arix grinned, a smarmy expression that only served to darken Vari’s eyes further. “How about we go to Credence and rescue some gorgeous slave maidens from the clutches of them inquisitors? Plenty of XP going and those bastards will have some nice gear tucked away in their vaults.” He pointed at Vari. “Our figurist even trained there for fuck’s sake. Must know the place like the back of her hand.”

  Mark stepped between the two of them. “No mate, we’re here to protect Garland from corruption. It’s seeping through the mountains from places like this. These smaller chasms will lead us to the big one that’s causing all the trouble. Once we close the source of the corruption, the others should dry up.”

  “So the main chasm’s like a cracked sewage pipe and these smaller chasms are the puddles of shit what have bubbled to the surface?”

  “Basically, yes. And you can either help us with this or…” He trailed off, leaving Arix to finish the sentence.

  “Or I can fuck off?” asked the executioner.

  Mark shrugged. “Not how I would’ve put it.”

  Arix looked from Mark to Vari and then winked at Braemar. “Bet there’s plenty of gorgeous maidens in this Garland of yours, yeah?”

  Braemar blushed. “Guess so. Depends what you’re-”

  Arix cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t matter. I’m not picky. Just as long as they’re suitably grateful that I saved their fair land for them.”

  “That we saved their fair land,” corrected Vari.

  “Whatever, luv,” said Arix as he turned to look out over the parade ground.

  Mark placed a hand on Vari’s shoulder. Her muscles were taut beneath his fingertips. He offered her an apologetic smile and her eyes lightened a little. She nodded, understanding that Arix was useful to them, for now. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then joined Arix in surveying the grounds below.

  He pointed out the half circle of an old stone grandstand in the closest corner of the square. “If Vari and Braemar put their backs to that, it should shield them from getting flanked.”

  “While we tank it out front,” assumed Arix.

  “Pretty much. We’ve just got to hold the line long enough for Braemar to close the chasm. Once that’s done, it’s mop-up time.”

  “Hope whatever climbs out of that crack brings some juicy loot with it.”

  Mark shrugged. “Wasn’t the case the last couple of times. Monsters only. No gear.”

  “Fuck me. Whatever’s inside that chasm will probs come to life as soon as I hit ground level and start searching the buildings anyway.”

  “Yeah, that seems to be the way they work. The last big one we met was the Siren of the Lake and it only surfaced once I got close.”

  “Siren, eh?” Arix gave him a wink. “You get any before you put the bitch down?”

  It was Mark’s turn to blush. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  Arix laughed and punched Mark in the arm. “Leaving people speechless is my thing, innit.”

  Mark rubbed his arm and heard Vari give a sigh behind him. Yes, it seemed they both agreed. Arix was turning out to be a bit of a dick.

  The executioner seemed oblivious to their unimpressed expressions as he pointed down at the cracked stretch of paving between the grandstand and the chasm. “Best if I go in front, give me enough room to use my Clean Slate skill without accidentally taking your head off.”

  “Yeah, that’d be inconvenient.”

  “Speaking of which, we should set our resurrection points up here. If we go down we can at least get a bird's eye view of the battle before jumping back in.”

  “Alright, but we need to make the turnaround super quick. No time for screaming and wallowing.”

  “Fuck, what do you take me for? A noob?” Arix turned to Mark and prodded him in the chest. “I’ve just spent days being tortured by that twisted bitch of an inquisitor and I’m pretty ass-fuck furious about this whole not-being-able-to-log-off thing too.” He feigned an apologetic look for Vari and Braemar. “Sorry. This whole not-being-able-to-go-home-thing. So don’t you worry about me having a cry and a wank up here while you’re all getting your guts torn out by monsters. I’ve got scores to settle with this place, and like it or not, you’re all going to help me do that.”

  Arix scratched a hasty pentagram into the dust with the heel of his boot, stepped to the edge of the balcony and balanced there for a moment. “Let’s do this before I decide to fuck off and leave your sorry asses to get banged by the beasties.” With that he jumped off the balcony, hit the stones below and performed a roll as he regained his feet.

  Mark shook his head and took a little more care with his pentagram, arranging it neatly with fragments of masonry. When he was finished, Vari smiled and pointed out some stone steps leading down from the balcony. “Shall we take the stairs like civilized people?”

  Mark took Vari’s hand in his and mirrored her smile. Behind them, Braemar chuckled as he followed them down.

  The first creature met the executioner’s axe as it tried to crawl over the rim of the chasm. Mark got a glimpse of a sickly grey face and milky eyes before the axeblade split the legionnaire’s helmet and bisected the head within. Three more heads followed the first, barely getting a peek over the edge before Arix decapitated them with a shout of “Clean Slate!” and a single sweep of his axe. Three were replaced by eight and Arix retreated from the chasm’s edge as the eight multiplied to more than Mark could count at a glimpse.

  He looked to Braemar. The druid was kneeling in the dust, his hands flat against the ground, eyes screwed shut in his beetroot face as he mouthed a stream of incantations. Mark caught Vari looking at him and flashed her a smile as the earth trembled beneath their feet. He desperately wanted to shout “Did the earth move for you too, baby?” but fought the urge back on the grounds that Vari would take it literally and they really didn’t have time for his awkward explanation right now.

  Your party has slain four Level 3 Corpse Soldiers.

  XP reward per party member = 30 XP

  Please note that your party now consists of four members.

  It was nice to see that Arix’s inquisitor ‘friend’ wasn’t siphoning their XP anymore. He awakened the molten life within Volcanic Bastard, murmured “Arcane Edge” for good measure and charged into the fray. He cut through two corpse soldiers that were trying to circle around behind Arix. The undead fighters wore breastplates, cuisses and greaves. Mark made sure to aim for their unprotected bellies, cleaving through the mummified flesh and brittle bone, making four half-soldiers out of two. To Mark’s relief, these weren’t Walking Dead zombies that remained animate until their skulls were crushed. In undeath they fell to the same mortal blows that would’ve taken them in life.

  Your party has slain two Level 3 Corpse Soldiers.

  XP reward per party member = 15 XP

  Arix grunted his thanks and finished dismembering his most recent pair of opponents.

  Mark watched as Arix then proceeded to perform a startling piece of gymnastics. He planted his axeblade in the helmeted skull of a corpse soldier that was lunging towards him, then used the axe’s momentum to swing himself up and over his foe like the lead weight on a metronome. As Arix landed feet-first on the ground, the axeblade pulled out with a spray of rotten greymatter. He brought it over in
a perfect arc, and with such power, that it split the next corpse soldier in twain.

  A rusted short sword snapped Mark back into the moment as it bounced painfully off Garridar’s Ironhide. He huffed out his annoyance as he brought Volcanic Bastard to bear and removed the offending corpse’s head.

  Your party has slain five Level 3 Corpse Soldiers.

  XP reward per party member = 37 XP

  “Second Skin!” Mark shouted, and just in time as a spear came hurtling towards him. It fell in splinters to the ground along with fragments of his blue aura that dissolved like snow as they hit warm ground. He fired up his Second Skin aura again and heard “Justice Prevails!” to his left. Glancing over, Mark saw Arix’s forearm glimmer with cold light as a nasty gash healed over. A blood-stained spear lay at his feet.

  So the executioner can heal himself? Mark stored that observation away and made a note to mention it to Vari.

  His thoughts were washed away in a wave of fear as he looked past Arix to the chasm. The ravine was narrowing rapidly, pulling together like the edges of a deep cut after one of Vari’s Mend Flesh spells. Yet it still had a fair way to go.

  In the meantime, it seemed an entire legion of corpse soldiers were making their escape, led by an officer in bronze armor. The big deadman bore a huge tower shield in one arm, held a longsword in the other, and wore a gleaming helmet with a bright, scarlet plume on its crest. While pale as death, the officer was more fleshy than the others, still retaining much of his former stature and musculature. His creamy eyes gleamed with intelligence as he opened his mouth. Though no sound was uttered, his soldiers responded as if receiving a crisp order. Their ranks parted three ways, one group charging at Arix, one flanking him on the left and the other flanking Mark to the right.

  He watched Arix meet the central charge with a flurry of axe blows, severing limbs and chopping off heads like a weedeater going through a patch of thistles.