by Rob J. Hayes
All the more reason to use me. I can end this madness.
Tamura was watching my shadow move, following the snaking path. He looked up at me and shook his head, sadness in his eyes. I'm still not sure what that meant. Was he agreeing with me, warning us not to strike? Or was he just now realising what I harboured inside of me? I had never spoken to him of my possession. I had never spoken to anyone about it, not even Silva.
"What if you fail?" I whispered.
"I won't fail," the Iron Legion said. As he turned back towards me, Ssserakis drew back, my shadow pooling beneath me once more. "I've planned this for longer than you have been alive."
That was our chance!
"There'll be other chances," I said.
The Iron Legion narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. "Who are you talking to?"
Tamura came to our rescue. And he paid a high price. We all did.
Chapter 2
They say it's always the one you don't see coming that gets you. That's not always true. Sometimes the one you don't see coming, just pisses you off.
"My chance is now!" Tamura shouted. He launched himself upwards and caught the Iron Legion square in the face with a punch that I have seen fell much larger men. Loran staggered back a step. A single step. That's all we could manage, even with the element of surprise on our side and Tamura giving it his all. He tried to follow it up. The old Aspect stepped into the punch and made to grab at the Iron Legion. Tamura always excelled at the close quarters fighting. But the Iron Legion's defences were up by then and Tamura just rebounded from an invisible barrier.
The Iron Legion turned pitiless eyes on Tamura, a dark stare that promised pain. "That was a mistake, old friend." He reached out with a single hand and closed it into a fist. Tamura was crushed between forces no one could see. It was the only time I ever saw my friend scream. The only time I ever saw him in any real physical pain. The pressure pushed in on him from both sides and Tamura was lifted from the ground. I saw his arm snap. All for me. All to protect me.
Guilt is an odd thing. It is almost always overshadowed by other emotions. When I saw Tamura in so much pain, knowing that it was all because of me, I felt an anger so red hot the world receded around me. A tunnel vision with Tamura's agony at the centre of it. But anger fades. Long after the red-hot rage dissipated, the guilt of it remains. Refuses to leave me. He may have volunteered himself as sacrifice, to distract the Iron Legion, but it was my fault. I did that to him.
Even crushing Tamura, the Iron Legion kept his hold on me as well. I struggled against the magic keeping me captive, but all I did was exhaust what little energy I had mustered. Fresh tears tracked down the weary lines of my face and I screamed. No words. I had no words. Only pain.
Ishtar was the first to act and the closest to us. She launched into a sprint, sword already moving for a strike, and then stopped, pitching forwards with a crack as her ankle snapped. The earth had risen around her left foot, encasing it in stone and her own momentum broke the bone. Her head struck the ground of the arena and she didn't rise.
Horralain screamed and I felt his fear. Horralain's fear. I didn't think the man could feel it. I glanced up to see the big man had closed some of the distance between us, but was on his knees, screaming at something none of us could see. I'm sure I've mentioned before just how much I detest Empamancy. There is a good reason for it. The Iron Legion felled Horralain, one of the most brutal thugs I have ever known, with nothing but a glance, instilling within him some primal fear I don't think Horralain ever managed to remove. The legacy the Iron Legion left on all of us runs deep.
Hardt was slow to move, his grief weighing him down more surely than any physical load ever could. No sooner had he reached his feet, then a sand golem dragged itself from the ground in front of him. Some golems are far more dangerous than others. Rock and metal are often considered at the top of the list, but the truth is, while they are hardy and resilient, they lack the flexibility that many of the more subtle forms can take. Hardt did not understand this. He swung a single punch at the golem, a strike that would have shattered bone, and his fist sank deep into the body of the construct. The golem then lurched forwards, engulfing Hardt almost entirely before solidifying, trapping him inside its body.
With Tamura still trapped in the Iron Legion's crushing grip, and I still held down by a kinetic force I could not resist, only Imiko remained to save us all. I do not blame her for her actions. I cannot. She did perhaps the one thing I would never have considered. Imiko collapsed onto her knees, just a few paces from the Iron Legion, and screamed at him. "Stop hurting my friends!"
The Iron Legion turned his dark stare on Imiko and in my mind all I could see was the broken body he had left of Barrow. "Don't touch her!" I hissed.
"I have no wish to harm any of you," the Iron Legion said, turning away from Imiko and striding back to me. "You attacked me." With a flick of his hand, he sent Tamura careening away. The crazy old Aspect did not get up.
We were done. All of us beaten with so little effort the Iron Legion didn't even look ruffled. Even the single surprise punch Tamura had landed on the man wouldn't bruise, his Biomancy would make certain of that.
You should have let me try. Even Ssserakis lacked the conviction of its words. We all knew just how soundly we were beaten.
"The only reason I am still here at all is as a courtesy to you," the Iron Legion said. He waved his hand and I found myself plucked from the earthen stool by a kinetic grasp, dangled upright before the man. Throughout it all, the Djinn waited nearby, silent and patient, simply waiting to see the outcome of our conflict. "I admit," the Iron Legion continued, "I have put you through some hardship. It was necessary. I needed to put you within a suitable environment, you see. There needed to be catalyst, which would trigger the changes I made and allow you to fulfil the Auguries. I understand that this was not pleasant for you."
"Pleasant?" The word burst from me along with an incredulous laugh.
"Quiet, child!" the Iron Legion hissed, and I found my jaw clenching of its own accord, locking up tight.
There is a horror in helplessness. One far worthier of fear than anything Ssserakis ever showed me. It is that same helplessness the ancient horror instilled within me the first time we met, down in the deepest dark. It is the same helplessness that Prig forced upon me down in the Pit. I detest feeling helpless. Even if I know I can't win, I will revel in the fight because there will always be a chance. But the Iron Legion crushed me with his invisible grip, held me so tight I couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. And I knew with a sobering certainty, there was nothing I could do should he choose to end it. There was nothing any of us could do. We were fucking beaten! Even Aerolis, a Djinn, a god, seemed powerless when measured against Loran Orran.
"I am not without mercy," the Iron Legion said. "But my patience has its limits. I am trying to fix the mistakes wrought upon this world by others. Of course, I understand it would always be a thankless goal. Most won't see the necessity for bringing them back…"
I will admit, I stopped listening. It was not out of disinterest, but out of fear and panic. I could not move my head, but my eyes slid sideways to where Hardt was held, encased in a golem of hardened sand. He couldn't pull himself free from that, and neither could he see or breathe. There is only so long a person can survive without air, and terrans are renowned for being the very worst of Ovaeris' peoples for holding their breath. Still, I couldn't help him. I couldn't help anyone. I couldn't save them. I couldn't do anything. I slid my gaze to where Aerolis waited, pleading. I hate pleading, begging for help where I cannot help myself. Even worse when that pleading falls on deaf ears… or I suppose eyes, in this case.
"Are you even listening, Helsene? I'm trying to explain why your hardship was necessary, so you'll understand the sacrifices I have had to make."
The iron grip on my jaw loosened and I drew in a deep breath. "Just go!" I shouted at the man who had once been my hero. We ignore so much as children, or perhaps
we just see things so differently. I once saw the Iron Legion as strong and regal, radiating with power, and handsome in way I didn't even understand at the time. Through my younger self's eyes, he was a hero, everything I aspired to be. If only I had seen him then as I do now, through the eyes of an adult. I know I couldn't have changed anything, couldn't have stopped him. But the Iron Legion didn't deserve my adoration, and if I could turn back time and take it away, I would. A petty victory, maybe, but then that is certainly one of my traits.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Hardt's one free hand drop and hang limp by his side, his struggling ceased.
"I don't care why you did it." The lie came easily to my lips. They always have, where Hardt is involved. "You've won. Just leave us alone. Fuck off!"
The Iron Legion snorted and shook his head. "A wasted opportunity. I hoped you would come with me. Willingly. You may not be the chosen one, but I could still use you. Yenhelm will…"
"Go away!" I screamed. Anything to stop him talking. Anything to release his grip.
Another shake of his head. "I hope for your sake we never have cause to meet again, Helsene. So much wasted potential." A portal snapped open behind the Iron Legion and I saw a dark room with a couple of lit candles illuminating a desk and a nearby bookshelf. Josef stood near the desk, a panicked look on his face like child caught with a sweet pastry before dinner. "I'll be back for the hammer, Aerolis. When you realise the truth and beg me to help you." With that, the Iron Legion stepped through the portal, and it snapped shut behind him. The crushing grip that held me vanished and the golem engulfing Hardt crumbled around him. His body hit the floor and didn't move.
Chapter 3
Panic! The Djinn said something once the Iron Legion was gone, but I ignored the rumbling of the arena and lurched to my feet, stumbling towards Hardt's body. Imiko rushed to my aid and I pushed her away. I shouldn't have done that, but I was determined to move under my own power, and she had more important things to do.
"Check on Tamura," I hissed and kept limping on. Tamura lay nearby, a crumpled form. He looked so small, frail. Broken. We were all broken in one way or another, and I couldn't check on everyone at once. Imiko rushed away with a nod, perhaps the only one of us not hurt. No, that's not right. Imiko was certainly hurt, just not physically. I should never have let her come to Do'shan. My little sister was never quite the same afterwards.
Ishtar lay still, unmoving. Her foot was still encased in stone and blood leaked into her fur from a gash on her forehead. I shouted at her as I passed, and she groaned. I took that for a good sign and promised I would come back once I had seen to Hardt. The big man still hadn't moved, and I refused to accept what I already knew was truth.
Horralain was sitting in the sand, his head in his hands and was rocking back and forth. Whatever nightmare the Iron Legion had locked his mind into would not be easy to escape, and I couldn't risk what he might do to anyone who tried to bring him round. People in that state have a habit of lashing out, not seeing anything around them, only the terror that infects their mind. I could feel that fear flowing from him in pulsing waves. The pleasure of it made my head spin and I very nearly stopped. The desire to pull closer to Horralain and soak in his dread was overwhelming. And also not mine. At the time, I found it beyond difficult to separate myself from Ssserakis. The longer we spent together, the more the lines between us blurred. My own fear over Hardt was all that dragged me away, I think.
"He's alive," Imiko shouted, crouched over Tamura. "But not in a good way. His arm is broken and he's making less sense than usual."
Tamura was alive. I took solace in that, if nothing else. Guilt threatened to undo me. All this had happened because of me. Tamura had attacked to distract the Iron Legion and the others had reacted. So many hurt, maybe even worse, just to protect me and the horror I carried inside.
When finally, I reached Hardt, I collapsed down next to him, my left leg screaming in pain. I think perhaps I had twisted it when the Iron Legion dropped me. The big man was face down in a small mountain of loose sand. I had to lift his arm and put my back against it, bracing myself and pushing with every bit of strength I could muster, just to roll him onto his back. He wasn't breathing.
"Your bodies are so fragile," the Djinn said close by. I hadn't even noticed him drifting closer.
"Can you help?" Hope is a horrible thing. It only ever leads to even greater despair.
"Biomancy is the realm of the Rand," the Djinn said. "You could always raise him as another of your ghosts."
I turned furious eyes on the Djinn. "If you won't help, then GO THE FUCK AWAY!" Shouting rarely helps anyone, but it sure does feel good to vent some rage from time to time.
Silva would have known what to do. Her body lay nearby, bloody from the wound I had given her. Lifeless. Gone. I refused to look. Too much grief, too quickly. Too many of the people I loved, dead. I choked back a sob. "What do I do?" The words came out as a whisper of pain. "WHAT DO I DO?" Then a scream of agony.
My ghosts crowded around me, so close I felt stifled. They were a swarm these days, all of them appearing at once, risen and drawn forth by a power I didn't know how to control. Necromancy was a part of me, infused into my blood. A gift and a curse, the product of the Iron Legion's torture. Isen was foremost among my ghastly retinue. His face was still a wreckage, the result of Josef's anger and jealousy. Still, he somehow managed to look sad as he looked down on his elder brother.
"I'm sorry." I've never been good at uttering those words to the living, yet they've always come so easily to the dead.
Isen's ghost leaned over his brother's body and put two hands on the big man's chest. When he pushed down, his hands went through the body.
I sobbed. I had done this. My fault. And both brothers had paid the price for my stupidity. For my powerlessness. "I killed both of you."
Isen's ghost mimed pushing down on Hardt's chest a few more times, then bent his ruined face over Hardt's and puffed out what was left of his cheeks. Then he went back to pushing his ethereal hands through Hardt's chest.
"Intriguing," said the Djinn. "Does the ghost realise it has no physical form? They do tend to be pale afterthoughts of who they once were, fading over time until nothing but the image of them remains."
"He knows." Realisation hit as the words escaped my lips. I shuffled around Hardt's body until I was occupying the same space as Isen's ghost. It felt… strange. Familiar and alien all at once. Not cold, I always felt cold inside ever since Ssserakis had possessed me. It felt as though I could almost feel all of Isen's memories, everything that had once made him him, but they were just out of reach, and the more I reached for them, the more they slipped away.
I copied Isen's position as best I could and mimicked his movements, pressing down on Hardt's chest. Then I moved with the ghost, opened Hardt's mouth, drew in a deep breath and blew it out. It was hope that drove me to it. Such an odd sight I must have made. But I had to believe that Isen's ghost knew something I didn't. That perhaps it remembered some of what his brother had once taught him. Because I knew, out of all of us, only Hardt would know how to bring himself back.
I don't know how many times I copied the actions of Isen's ghost. Enough that my arms felt wobbly from the effort and my head was spinning. Long enough that I didn't realise it had worked until Hardt's hands closed around my own to stop me. He was coughing, eyes unfocused, and sand on his lips. You're probably thinking we shared a heartfelt reunion then, full of hugs and joy. You'd be wrong. Hardt pushed me away, rolled onto his side and vomited. And my joy was short lived. Hardt was alive, but I could see Silva's body, and I knew there was no bringing her back.
"What happened?" Hardt said eventually, after throwing up clumps of wet sand.
"We lost." I couldn't seem to drag my gaze away from where Silva lay. "He beat us all in moments."
"Argh. Big Terrelan monster," Ishtar's voice was laced with pain. "Stop watering the sand with your tears and help free me. I don't know which hurts more, my foo
t or my head. No. No, it's my foot. Definitely my foot."
Imiko helped Tamura to his feet and the old Aspect staggered, almost pulling them both back to the ground, but Imiko has always been stronger than she looks. Together they made their way to where Ishtar lay on the ground. With her foot trapped the way it was, there was no way my sword tutor could free herself, and the pain was considerable as she was happily telling us all.
"Can you free her?" I asked the Djinn. Aerolis nodded but didn't help. "Will you?"
"I see no reason to," the Djinn rumbled.
"You're just going to wait here and watch us gather ourselves?"
"I'm curious. It's been quite some time since I've had a chance to observe your kind. And I have nothing else to do."
I struggled to standing. My left leg felt stiff, wooden and painful, and hurt whenever I put weight on it. Still, I limped closer and stared up at the Djinn. "Free her." I pointed at Ishtar.
The floating stone I took for the Djinn's head turned to the side a little. "Why?"
"Call it returning the favour. We freed you."
A rumble of laughter echoed around the amphitheatre. "You did nothing of the sort. The sphere around this place was my doing, not the Rand's. And you had nothing to do with breaking it. I am still trapped here, and Do'shan is still secured by unbreakable anchors. All you did was kill the Aspect for a greater power than the Rand offered you."
I ground my teeth together. Imiko lowered Tamura to the ground and looked at the earth that had risen to lock Ishtar's foot in place. I caught her shaking her head.
"Free her," I said to Aerolis. "And I will free Do'shan."
"Done." No sooner had the words rumbled out from wherever they came from, the earthen lock around Ishtar's foot crumbled back to sand. My sword tutor pulled her foot close and rolled over, already fumbling for her pahht shoes to inspect the injury. I turned away from Aerolis, but the Djinn spoke again. "It is no small task you agree to. So, I will grant you three days to accomplish it."
