Resist

by Derek Belfield

  Still singing softly, the fire began to shift colors. It started as a pure white-blue and steadily darkened in hue. Soon, black flames were licking the Ambassador’s skin, and she smiled at their familiar comfort. This was Spectral Fire; it was the aspect of Ambystos. It had properties that allowed it to pass through barriers and eat the magic that fueled them. The Clergy said the flames were black because it represented the missing piece inside them all. The Ignati did not benefit from the mana that the Spectral Fire consumed. That was said to return to the Origin Fire.

  As she was studying the fire, the flames whooshed upwards, and Daishi smiled and stopped her singing before backing up three paces and then kneeling on the floor with her forehead pressed to the ground.

  “This one greets you, your Imperial Majesty,” she said reverently. The Ignati recognized the Emperor as the divine representative of their Lord. The Clergy had inculcated the habit of speaking in the third person to the Holy Emperor.”

  “Ah, Ambassador Daishi,” the voice replied in a tone that conveyed pleasant surprise. “I did not expect you to be contacting me so soon. You are truly a credit to the Origin.”

  Daishi’s cheeks heated at the compliment. “Your Imperial Majesty, blessed be your name, is too kind to this one. This one simply desires to serve the Origin.”

  There was a pause as if the Emperor was speaking to someone else. Daishi waited patiently. She did not dare interrupt the Emperor, blessed be his name.

  “Daishi,” the voice said, “The Lord of Spectral Fire himself, has informed me that you have news to share with me about the Scourge.”

  “This one does.” Daishi sounded like a little girl showing off a new toy to her father. “This one has spent considerable time studying the Scourge, and this one would like to report her findings.”

  There came another pause. “Begin.” This time, all fatherly pleasure had disappeared without a trace. The Emperor was ready to receive the report of a subordinate.

  “This one arrived three days ago. She arrived via a merchant ship in the port and took great pains to conceal her identity. She gathered information by visiting a local bar called the Ring and speaking to the common folk there. She was surprised to learn that they had all been turned into something called the Faithful. They resembled elves with tawny skin, eyes like gemstones, and metallic hair.”

  Daishi paused to take a breath before continuing her report. “While striking, this one did not immediately see any tactical significance of their appearance. While she was trying to collect information on the Scourge, she was approached by a bartender and told that she should go somewhere else with her questions and that she wasn’t welcome in the establishment. She left, not wanting to draw attention to herself and then went to find other bars. Unfortunately, she was met with the same kind of resistance in each place she visited. She even located old contacts within the city using the proper signs and countersigns…”

  The Ambassador paused again. This was what had honestly puzzled her about the Scourge. The Emperor sensed her hesitation.

  “Go on,” he said with concern tinging his voice.

  “…the agents all refused to provide information to this one. Every agent said that they had renounced the ways of the Lord of Fire and instead served Lucidus.” Daishi’s tongue felt dirty from even speaking the name of another deity out loud. She resolved to wash her tongue for her blasphemy. Undoubtedly, the Clergy would be able to sense the stain in her voice.

  “It was then that this one decided that she must reveal herself as an Ambassador of the Ignatum Empire. She felt that there was magic at work, and she would soon be discovered. She chose to control the revelation of her identity rather than let it control her. Since she revealed herself, she has been given quarters and allowed to stay within the palace.”

  Daishi stopped; she had given a chronological description of her encounters. It wasn’t her place to offer assessments. If the Emperor needed to know something, he would ask for clarification, or the Lord of Fire would inform him of what he needed to know.

  “What did you think about the Scourge?” the Emperor asked.

  “This one wouldn’t presume to tell the Imperial Majesty her thoughts,” Daishi replied.

  “I insist,” the Emperor said simply.

  Daishi would never violate a direct order. She would lash herself with a whip of fire for her impertinence later.

  “The Scourge are not as the histories describe,” she began. “They are wild, seemingly impulsive, and they have only a tenuous relationship to the law. They are nothing like the Lord that they serve. Their leader, especially, seems more ambitious than the those who Lucidus has historically chosen to lead their armies.”

  “Oh?” The General asked. “Tell me about their leader. I look forward to meeting him.”

  Daishi shuddered. “He has cruel, perfect eyes. They seemed to look at this one—and through her. He seemed to read every thought this one had and would ever come to have. This one knows that the Scourge does not possess such abilities, but his appearance and body language suggested that there was nothing this one could do that he hadn’t already planned for and countered.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause. “You sound as if you admire him, Daishi.” The Emperor delivered his words in the form of a statement but the tone of a question.

  “This one fears him,” Daishi said plainly. “This one has met many leaders, and she has guided the Empire to successful negotiations every time. However, this one is glad the Emperor has seen fit to address the Scourge more directly. The Clergy taught this one that power cannot be unbound and without limit. Undoubtedly, this is the goal of the Scourge leader.”

  The Emperor considered the ambassador’s perspective. If she was right, then the Empire was facing an altogether different enemy. The Emperor had been alive during the initial Immortal War. Back then, Lucidus’ followers were neutral arbiters of law and decency. They weren’t particularly frightening unless someone violated their statutes and provoked them to anger. Something must have changed in the intervening years. The thought made him nostalgic. He still remembered exploring and fighting alongside Avos, the First Heritor of the Scourge. Things were more straightforward, then.

  He shook himself from his memories. It was getting harder and harder not to lose himself in the halls of his memory. They had grown long and wide in his extended life. He had lived far longer than was any Ignati’s right. However, the Champions of the Immortals were not granted the death that many of them sought. On behalf of their patrons, they would continue the Immortal Wars until the killing was done, and the war was won. He needed to pass his orders. Daishi had grown up in Imperial service; he was fond of her and her work on behalf of the Empire. It was unfortunate that his orders would probably get her killed, and she would become another guest in the halls of his memory.

  “Attend to me; the Lord of Fire has spoken.” His tone had all of the majesty of an Emperor. He didn’t use it for his benefit but for hers. The Ignati needed to believe that the Emperor, the Clergy, and Ambystos himself were here to support them even if it was the furthest from the truth. They were all in the meat grinder until one deity reigned supreme.

  “The Scourge has defeated the Vallyr assassin Mordryn. Instead of dying, the assassin has been trapped in his blade. Currently, the blade is kept within the palace, but I am unable to determine where. Even my power has its limits. The armory is likely protected by a magical barrier that bars my sight. You are to find the blade, release Mordryn using your Spectral Fire, and convince him to fight on behalf of the Empire. If he does not fight you, you are to kill him before he regains his strength. He is a valuable piece on the board, and unless he’s fighting for us, he needs to be removed. Should that happen, you will attempt to assassinate the Scourge leader, and anyone affiliated.”

  The Emperor took a breath, “In the meantime, I will be sending our forces south to break through the Collective’s lines and strike at the center of their power, Soulreach. Do you have any questio
ns?” He asked her.

  “This one does not,” she said confidently. “This one will deliver the Scourge to you, or she will die trying.”

  The Emperor smiled sadly through the flames, but Daishi could not see it with her face still pressed to the floor as it was.

  “I expected no less from you,” he said softly as he terminated the connection between them, and the flame returned to its former white-blue hue.

  CHAPTER 06: THE NEW CONSORT

  SLATE STRETCHED LANGUIDLY. The last week had been something of a luxury. It was a period of inactivity that he had rarely allowed himself to engage in throughout his life. Although, to say he had done nothing would be inaccurate. All told, he had created close to three hundred future Scourglings. The first ones wouldn’t be hatching for another week, but he was pleased with the number of warriors they would soon have. As irritating as it was, he could even feel Fidem’s pride at the number of new eggs resting in the hatchery. Slate could feel whenever the priest left food in the chamber because joy would pulse to him from every Enticer in the area. Slate knew that Fidem had been holding elaborate rituals in the room, and he had taken over the selection of Guardians for the blessing. Slate felt that he should probably be worried about Fidem’s increasing power, but he couldn’t be bothered by the fact that the First Enticer was performing a task that Slate himself had no desire to complete. Besides, Shale never let Fidem decide something important by himself. She and Serena both were extremely protective of the clutch, an impulse that Slate didn’t seem to share

  What are you thinking about? His companion asked him.

  Slate looked over at Serena. She had been keeping him company while Shale was transporting the most recent batch of eggs to their proper places below the palace. He had been staring at the ceiling and plotting for close to an hour. He needed silence to re-energize himself. He felt as if his mind had been running non-stop since he arrived in Somnium almost a month ago. Much had happened in a month, and this was his first opportunity to process it all.

  This is the first opportunity to rest since coming to Somnium, he replied pensively.

  Rest? Serena replied while winking one scaled eyelid. Is that what you call what we’ve been doing?

  Slate chuckled. No, I suppose not, my fearsome foe. We’ve been training!

  Serena laughed as well. Perhaps, not that. Although, we should be training. I heard from Sumnu that Shale has been training all of the Scourge in a new martial art she developed.

  Slate knew what she was talking about, but he was coming to learn that the Scourgemind wasn’t an exact replacement for conversation. There were two ways that the Scourge could communicate within the Scourgemind. In the first way, communication happened at the speed of thought. It was convenient because it allowed for the instantaneous transfer of information. That was especially beneficial amid a battle or when holding a private conversation, but, in some ways, the second kind was better. The second way was the method by which he and Serena were communicating now. It was as slow as the spoken word, but it was more refined. It also allowed the two interlocutors to consider their words and the impressions they might make before sending them to each other—unlike in the first form of communication through the Scourgemind. While it didn’t matter much to Slate which way he communicated with Serena and Shale, he was coming to realize that they preferred the more measured pace of the second way. It was therapeutic to work out your thoughts with another person. He could tell that Serena was using him as a sounding board now.

  Have you tried to pick any of it up? He asked her, his tone interested.

  I’ve been to every lesson. Shale is a brilliant warrior. She paused to look away from him. Slate had noticed that when she was particularly upset, she wouldn’t meet the eyes of the person she was talking to. I guess that’s to be expected. She’s been that way since she was a Guardian in Woodhaven.

  There was something off in her tone, and Slate took a moment to figure out what it was. He wasn’t used to experiencing the ebb and flow of someone else’s emotions within himself, and the Scourge’s body language was far more challenging to read than a mere human’s. Something about being a six-and-a-half-foot tall lizard threw his body language radar right off. He reached out through the Scourgemind to get an impression of what she was feeling. She was masking her thoughts from him, a trait that only the leadership of the Scourge possessed, but he could sense that she felt intimidated and insecure. It was strange to feel those emotions from Serena. For the longest time, she had been Winterborn—the practical yet over-the-top flirtatious warrior. It seemed that their more intimate relationship had changed the dynamic between them. It was a predictable, if annoying, consequence.

  Yes, she’s a peerless warrior. I’m not sure even I could—

  —You couldn’t, Serena interrupted. She would kick your ass from one side of this palace to another.

  Slate shot her an annoyed glance. She was meeting his eyes again with a sloppy grin. At least, that’s an improvement, he thought. He decided to humor her for the sake of her feelings. Okay, so she would definitely kick my ass. What I was trying to say--He gave her another pointed glare--was that you’re a great warrior too.

  Serena studied him. Yes, but I’m not the best.

  I never asked you to be, he said simply. Right now, you’re comparing yourself to Shale. I never made that comparison. You’ve been loyal to me since the first time we met. You were right beside me when we assaulted Bastion the first time, and you’ve made damn sure you not to leave since.

  He paused to consider his next words. Dishonesty wouldn’t be useful to him right now. Granted, I’m not saying that Shale hasn’t been loyal. All I mean to say is that I appreciate each of you for different reasons. Shale is the perfect queen. She’s devoted to me, she’s committed to the cause, and she’s dedicated to Lucidus.

  You’re different. Even when Shale and I were demonstrating our more monstrous qualities in the attack on Bastion, you were more concerned about how the Guardians would perceive our actions rather than judging us for them. It showed me a rare quality. He was speaking slowly as if he were tasting each word before it came out. In reality, he was parsing out his feelings for Serena at the same time he was expressing them to her. He wasn’t in love with her, nor was he in love with Shale. He wasn’t sure if he had ever really been in that kind of love. He was pretty sure that he was capable of love; it was just that up until now it had seemed extraneous. He was focused on the next plot, the next play for power, the next campaign. His life was a continuous rush for whatever happened next. Love was one of those things that helped you savor the moment. It was utterly contrary to the way that he had lived his life.

  I think that I appreciate you because you’re devoted to me and not to all of those other things. I know that if it came down to me or the cause…

  Serena answered him with a fanged smile. I would pick you every time.

  Slate smiled back at her, and he knew that he had said the right thing. The good thing was that it was all true. He didn’t have to lie to her to cheer her up. The most effective way to manipulate another person was with the truth. The truth could never be discovered; it just was. However, when a lie was uncovered, it did irreparable damage to the rapport that one had built. In Slate’s case, that rapport had usually been developed over an extended period. His cons were often long ones. If one was thinking about lying, they needed to be sure the outcome worked in their favor, whether the lie was revealed or not.

  He sighed out loud. So, what’s on the agenda today? He knew that his day would likely be filled with administrative work. Over the past week it had been much of the same. Approving this or that appointment, signing decrees, handing out titles, setting up taxes, appropriating funding for various projects. Ever since Bastion had taken over as the governor of the city, things had become much more streamlined. However, Slate was suspicious that the avatar was taking every opportunity to torment him with something that didn’t necessarily need to be done right then. Sl
ate had told Bastion to “fuck off” more than once. He felt somewhat guilty when he did so, not for Bastion’s sake, but Lynia’s. He discovered by accident that when he rejected such work, Bastion told Lynia that Slate had ordered her to do it. He had done no such thing, of course, but he wasn’t upset at the result. He wasn’t interested in populating the sewers with Scourglings to discourage intruders or whatever other nonsense the avatar concocted.

  Serena winced at Slates’s question. Well, she began. It’s been a week since our last progress meeting. You said that you wanted everyone together so that you could get an update and then enact your next plans.

  Slate widened his eyes. Fuck, that’s today? The Scion of the Scourge felt himself whining, but he didn’t care. That means Bastion has to be there, and I’ll have to listen to him prattle on about whatever inane topic he chooses to torture me with today. If I weren’t convinced it would blow up the city and piss off Lucidus, I would’ve destroyed his city gem a long time ago.

  Serena carefully schooled her reaction. If she laughed now, she knew the Slate would get angry. If that happened, he might destroy the gem out of sheer annoyance.

  Slate could still feel Serena’s amusement through the Scourgemind, and he scowled. Finnneee…He drawled, sounding more like a spoiled prince rather than the Scion of the Scourge.

  It was an attractive characteristic of his that he enjoyed the process of building a system, company, governmental body, or team, but he hated maintaining it afterward. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the capability; he just didn’t have the attention span. Once he had conquered something, he needed to move on to something else. The motion kept him sharp. It was why he delegated most of his administrative tasks—which he considered a waste of energy—to others. He believed that to be successful, you had to put the best people where they would do the best work. He was a leader, not an administrator.