Oblivion's Crown

by M. H. Johnson

  “Seriously, Jake, don’t stab me in the back, okay? I hate to say it, but it might really kill you, even back on Earth.”

  Jake paled. “Shit, Val, now you tell me?”

  Val’s smile was both hard and sympathetic. “This is the real deal, my friend. The coin is real, and so is the responsibility. And you totally know you’re double-dipping. Blackenthorp’s already paying you a monthly salary.”

  The boy had the cheek to smile. “Yeah, that’s true. Okay, no backstabbery between Earth-buds. Got it.”

  And within minutes, the entire circle of former captives had been sworn into Val’s service.

  Save for one giant of a man with several days’ worth of bristle on his cheeks, with an ugly sneer and a contemptuous gaze for everyone around him. He spat at Val’s feet.

  “Friends? Family?”

  Bethany gave an imperceptible shake of her head. “His name’s Alster. He’s a loner, Val. His only friends are a few of the troublemakers in the central pen where we are keeping all the captured infantry men. We sensed him planning an insurrection. Since he’s a pilot, we thought we’d give him a chance.”

  “I don’t want your coin, boy. I don’t want anything to do with you!” Alster flashed a cold smile. “This bullshit show might have snapped up the rubes, but we all know no Terran kid has a chance at anything, save as a Highlord’s pleasure toy!” He sneered at Jake, whose cheeks flushed with sudden heat, then spat at Val’s feet. “In case you didn’t know, kid, the Mercenary Accords protect us. All of us. If you do anything but let us go, no mercenary will ever sign onto your company again. And what’s even better? Every merc system-wide will side with whoever’s most likely to take you down.”

  Val gazed coldly at the man for long moments as he sneered and laughed. “What’s wrong, kid? Cat got your tongue? How pathetic!” He turned around looking at the pilots around him. “See? The Terran's speechless! He’s just a stupid kid! He’s nothing! We band together, we take him out, here and now!”

  Dimensional Rift successfully accessed!

  You have equipped Druidic Armaments! You are wielding Sacrificial blade!

  You have embraced your wrath!

  Critical strike! Your foe has suffered Fatal damage! The Hidden Grove grows stronger for your sacrifice!

  Alster frowned at the sudden change of expressions in the pilots he faced, turning around to face the boy he held in such contempt once more. “You still here, fool? I’ll k—”

  His eyes bulged, catching sight of Val’s armor, before widening further with a sudden gasp, sobbing with pain. “You can’t do this...” he whimpered, hands futilely gripping the blade of thorns Val had blasted through his belly, the giant man dessicating before everyone’s eyes as he gave a final dying gasp, his impaled body sliding off the blade before collapsing to the ground, a shriveled husk crumpling to ash before blowing away in the nighttime breeze.

  Near fifty pairs of eyes were staring at Val with expressions ranging from terror to awe.

  Jake whistled. “Damn, Val, you look ready to lead the High Hunt! Love those antlers. And that blade of wood and thorns must have some wicked bonuses! Vampiric effect, am I right? The red glow and shriveled corpse kinda gives it away.” He shook his head enviously. “Who do I have to kill to get some of that sweet, sweet loot you always find?”

  Val ignored his young friend’s comments, gazing solemnly into each of their faces. “None of you are fools. All of you understand.”

  Caden, of all people, flashed a grim smile. “You play a dangerous game, Overlord,” the powerfully built mercenary with the wolf-like sense of smell said. “But only a fool leaves an enemy at their back, especially one who will happily reveal every secret he can to our enemies, putting all our lives at risk.” He turned to glare at his fellow pilots. “The bastard reeked of treacherous malice. He would have happily seen us all killed out of sheer spite. So none of you are to say a word. Taking that idiot out did nothing but increase our own chances of survival.”

  Axel nodded. “Damn fool was trying to start an uprising, right in your face. Got what was coming to him.”

  “To say nothing of the exothermic detonators half our newest recruits dared to equip their battle-mechs with, in utter violation of any and all mercenary accords,” said Bethany with steel in her voice and ice in her gaze.

  She might be a vision of beauty with nothing but gentle sweetness for the man she adored, but Bethany was a Highlord trained for war, and equally capable of being as ruthless as any member of her tribe. The pilots understood this at once, paling and kneeling before Val and Bethany both.

  “A high crime for which you have all been forgiven," Bethany assured, "because you gave your oath and took our coin.”

  Val nodded, pointing at the now pristine battle-mechs standing at attention before the hangar. “Death to those who cross me. Glory and honor to those who serve. Coin for your purse, and a battle-mech for your mastery! Serve me well, and we will all see glory by year’s end!”

  The pilots cheered Val as he saluted them with his blade, exchanging a nod with the beautiful girl by his side before making his way past ruined gardens and fallow fields to the massive pen filled with tents and sleeping pads in which they were keeping five thousand or so captured infantry.

  Val crinkled his nose at the stench of unwashed bodies, glad to see there had at least been sufficient discipline to establish latrines. The prisoners staring back at him from behind the Jordian equivalent of electrified fences either glared at Val or flinched in fear.

  Val turned to Bethany. “Female captives? Families?”

  “Females have been separated. The few mercs with families present swore themselves to Christine the moment they could.” She flashed a cynical smile. “People who have their families stationed close enough by to beg on their husband's behalf are fighting because they are desperate, not stupid. They swore themselves to us the moment we offered succor. Same is true for merc husbands and wives fighting together. No sane family does that, unless in dire straits. And with Overlord Tytus dead and monsters like Kentric trying to seize the throne and Craven controlling the High Council, all too many Jordians are finding themselves in just that position.”

  Val nodded. “Good.” He turned to the nearest pair of guards by one of the entrances, both pairs of eyes growing wide as they caught Val’s gaze, looking fierce and terrible with silver runes etched across his face, eyes that had clearly witnessed living nightmare and survived, and a powerfully built body covered in ancient raiments the pair of guards associated with the worst sorts of Faerie tales their grandmothers would whisper into their ears late at night, many years ago.

  Val frowned, knowing his limits, surprised to get such strong sensory impressions from what were, after all, Jordian minds.

  “Ever the dagger, never the shield, but you grow stronger nonetheless, my hero. Even I can taste how your potency grows. Yet I sense something else...” Val turned to the beautiful woman beside him, captivated by the jewel-like sparkle of her eyes. “Ah. Mentem magic. And you only recently discovered its existence? Fascinating! I know Lisa will be beside herself to study this lost art under you, and there is much she can teach you in turn.”

  Both guards covered their sharp anxiety with sweeping bows. “How may we serve you, Overlord?”

  “Open the gate,” Val said, “and have the captives present themselves before me.”

  “At once, Overlord." The men carefully opened the now inert gate. Three fully armed soldiers with blasters at the ready led the way.

  One of the guards blew what seemed to be a bugle, of all things.

  “Roll call, leeches! Everyone is to present themselves before the Overlord, or suffer the consequences! And they won’t be pretty!”

  Within minutes, rows upon rows of men formed up before Val and what were now a dozen guards with blasters carefully trained on the surly-looking soldiers. Val sensed the presence of another dozen of his men keeping careful beads on the captives, for all that he had ordered another
200 men to stand down. With close to 5,000 captives, the risk of being overwhelmed even with a dozen armed men by his side was a very real possibility.

  Val caught the gazes of dozens of men hungry for freedom, suddenly certain Val might be an easy target.

  Just like Val intended.

  Bethany hissed, and Val could pick up even distant Angelica’s sudden prickle of alarm, still caught up in whatever demands Christine and her father had placed upon her, for all that he sensed both her frustration, and her desire.

  Val quickly focused on the large tattooed man taking the lead, sneering down at him with a gaze suspiciously like Alster’s own.

  “Giant’s name is Lenit. He's a troublemaker,” whispered one of the guards, before the giant drowned him out.

  “So, you must be the fool thinking he’s got a shot at the throne.” Eyes that glittered like diamonds sneered. “I told my mates you had to be daft to think you had a chance against Kentric. Now I see you’re even stupider than I thought!” He chuckled coldly. “You're just a boy with a wooden blade and antlers sticking out of your helm. Tell me, boy, is that how you got a foothold? Scaring people even stupider than you that you’re anything other than a puffed-up popinjay with delusions of grandeur who’ll ‘shoot back home the minute things get hot and heavy for us real men?”

  He spat at Val’s feet, bemused smirk turning to a cold snarl. “We’re mercs, shithead. You hold us any longer, and the whole council will string you by your liver for violating the accords. Quit fucking with us, and let us go. Now!”

  Val smiled. “How about a contest of arms?”

  The giant frowned. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Blinking as a shield of dwarven alloy suddenly manifested, as well as a blade.

  “Simple. You seem like the leader of this de-facto crew. Duel me. You win? You get to keep the gear and do whatever the hell you like, once you leave these lands. If I win, I’ll just offer the same terms to everyone else present. You win the duel, you go free. You lose? You go into the ground. You want out? You take the oath.”

  Lenit flashed a smile filled with chrome teeth. “So I get to take a shot at your ass with a dwarven blade? Shit, son. A chance at taking out a would-be Overlord. Yeah. Let’s do this!” He roared and charged.

  Val let himself sink into sweet battlefrenzy once more. The furious panting of his opponent lashing out with tight arcing blows did nothing to silence the desperate sobs still echoing through Val’s mind.

  The sight of Elsith reveling in her own horrific transformation, before collapsing at last in the mercy of death.

  The stench of decay and the lifeless eyes of half a dozen young dwarven women haunted Val still. Innocent girls who had wanted nothing more than to fall in love and embrace safe, happy lives before falling prey to Dominion troopers who had butchered them all in cold blood.

  Horrific memories Val sought to escape as he sunk into the rhythm and flow of combat, twisting aside and dodging around Lenit’s furious cuts and lunges, all but mocking him, goading the now roaring man to scowl with killing fury so reminiscent of Dimitry’s own. Before Lenit was jerked off his feet, spitting up blood, eyes widening in surprise as Val effortlessly forced Lenit’s blade off line before running him through, hoisting him up like a fish he had hooked through the entrails with an Overlord's strength.

  Lenit’s agonized shriek was so like the heartrending cry of a dying dwarf as he shriveled to a husk upon Val’s blade. His dying cries soothed Val’s wrath even as the near extinction of the clan that had saved him had stoked his fury to heights undreamed.

  Lenit crumpled to ash as Val yanked his blade free, the dwarven sword and shield falling to the ground.

  The Hidden Grove grows stronger for your sacrifice!

  Intimidation check made!

  Val glared at the captives. Not one would meet his gaze.

  “The accords have been met! Trial by combat offered and accepted. Now swear to serve me without reservation and live. Or duel me for the right to freedom, and take as a prize this dwarven blade and shield, should you survive.”

  And of the five thousand captives present, only three dared face Val with blade and shield, asking only to be allowed to fight Val in tandem.

  A request he granted, popping more dwarven armaments free of dimensional storage to the awe and wonder of all those gazing on, happy for the excuse to feed his grove, to pull his two hundred precious dwarves that much further from the brink of extinction.

  And within moments, it was done. No mercy was shown, no matter how the trio begged, every single witness falling to their knees as the final challenger crumpled to an ashy smear under the drizzling rain.

  And one after another, Val took the desperate oaths of hundreds upon hundreds of prisoners of war, even as deepest gloom was kissed by the first crimson rays of dawn. He took no break save for sips of water as the chill of night was replaced by the sweaty heat of day, a steady stream of troops now being led to rest, refreshment, and the ever expanding barracks being worked on by Blackenthorp forces as the day wore on.

  Until finally, the last man, trembling with fatigue, exposure, and exhaustion, gave his oath before being helped to his feet by friendly guardsmen clapping his back and offering him a sip from a hip flask. Men who had gazed at the prisoner like dirt, just moments before.

  And at last it was done.

  Congratulations! You have Oathbonded an additional five thousand prisoners of war, now sworn to serve you all their days. And only 15 men died screaming in agony! And you didn't miss a beat, savvy enough to go on, as if the men’s horrific deaths were not entirely your own fault. Ruthless! Double experience earned!

  Congratulations! Greater Oathbinding is now Rank 5! You have achieved Adept Rank with Greater Oathbinding! Now the marks you leave upon mind and spirit are undetectable even by inquisitors with Arcane Perception, unless their skill is greater than your Oathbinding rank. Opposing Oathbinder needs to be at least Rank 6 to remove your compulsion!

  Congratulations! Your oaths will now bind your victims even after your death! Few indeed could achieve this level of skill without walking the Path of Kings.

  Perception penalty of -3 now in effect.

  Willpower penalty of -3 now in effect.

  “Valor, are you alright?” Soft hands pressed his cheek, Val meeting Bethany’s concerned gaze, only then noticing a worried-looking Angelica looking so intently at him as well. A far cry from the jaded aristocrat she had so enjoyed playing at, when not trying to win his heart at Blackenthorp palace, just days ago. He vaguely recalled having sensed her presence the night before as he drank deeply of the flask they handed him, only then realizing how much of a daze he was in.

  Wanting to curse himself for a fool, for leaving himself so vulnerable, now too mentally exhausted to care.

  He had used the energies infusing his flesh, thanks to Personal Resonance Mastery, to push himself for days without sleep. Again.

  Damn it, he knew better.

  But there was just no time.

  Gentle eyes gazed into his own, Bethany’s smile as tender as a mother’s. “Come, Valor. Let’s get you to bed.”

  And perhaps it said something about his stupor that he didn’t protest when she began tentatively taking off his armaments the moment he found himself in luxurious quarters that would be the envy of any high-roller suite, plush furniture glimpsed from the far room even as Val sunk into a sauna-sized tub of lily white marble lined with gold.

  Angelica, with her dark hair done in ringlets and a strange glint to her beautiful violet eyes, had somehow slipped in beside Bethany, both of them now garbed only in silken robes that clung to every curve of their body from steam and moisture as they finished undressing him before gently scrubbing his body with soapy water as the other massaged his scalp; washing out blood, dirt, gore, and god knew what else until finally they declared him clean, all of them now naked and soaking in the tub before the girls poured fresh water over all their heads, giggling as they did so and sharing a comfortab
le kiss before each took one of Val’s hands, padding him dry beside the massive tub before leading him to the most luxurious bed he had ever felt caress his exhausted flame. It was like floating on clouds.

  And for all that he felt skin supple as silk longingly caress his chest and back, he received naught but chaste kisses as the two beautiful women tucked themselves under warm covers and pressed happily against him.

  “Love you, Valor Hunter.”

  “We are your queens. And you, our king.”

  The girls’ tender thoughts were the last thing he felt gently soothing his mind before the caress of sleep eased the dying screams that haunted his soul.

  31

  “Julia?”

  “Stay away from me, Val. Just stay away!”

  Val squeezed tight the sudden ache in his chest, suddenly afraid. Knowing he had to reach out to her. Had to make her understand. “Julia...”

  Gasping as rays of burning light seared his retinas, imagining the faint echo of Titan’s Blast echoing through his skull…

  Before recognizing the smells of coffee, hot chocolate, and fresh baked pastry.

  The sound of light feminine laughter.

  Jerking open groggy eyes before squeezing them shut at the golden light of the sun.

  “Our champion has awakened,” teased a sultry voice Val flushed to remember once whispering throatily in his ear as he surrendered to the hot passion burning through both of them, not that long ago. He felt his cheeks heat up all the more when he met Angelica’s piercing gaze, the sardonic little smile at the corner of her lips softening to something more when she caught Val’s regard.

  “Hi, Val,” she said, now sounding very much like a girl not quite sure where she stood with the man who had somehow captured her heart. Dressed in silken attire covered with floral prints that looked very much like a kimono, her ebony hair done up with jade pins, she looked exquisite. She was presently nibbling on a chocolate-covered pastry, flecks of icing caressing her lips.

  Her smile widened. “It’s good to see you.”