Wraith Lord

by Phipps, C. T.

  “You know that is not true.”

  “I do. But, I do not ask you to lie to Regina about it. I ask you to lie to yourself.”

  “What?”

  “Blame him so you can forgive yourself. I do it every day with Jassamine, the Lawgiver, the Trickster, and others. If you repeat it often enough, you can pretend you’re a good person and perhaps become one.”

  Serah stared at me, opened her mouth then closed it. The look on her face was confused then resigned them almost happy. “Yes, I suppose that does have a certain appeal. Would you lie to me, Jacob?”

  “About?”

  “Anything.”

  “Regina has already forgiven you,” I whispered, my illusion-covered voice reassuring. “Hellsword and Redhand will be defeated today and Gewain freed. The Nine will fall without difficulty and the peasants will love us for liberating them. The Lawgiver will be cast down and better gods raised who are noble and kind. The suffering will be minimal and songs will be sung about our heroism. No one will curse our name and they will name a cookie after you.”

  “A cookie?”

  “Serahs. They’re delicious.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and she buried her head in my shoulders.

  “All right. Thank you.” Serah pulled away and straighted herself. “We need to find Regina.”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Outside of the barrier, trumpets blared, which signaled the forces of Hellsword and Redhand were pulling back from their assault. Thanks to Serah’s actions, the Burning Blades had lost a third of their host. It wasn’t much of a victory, despite far less casualties on our side than should have been possible, because we were now trapped like a butterfly in bottle.

  Walking with Serah at my side, I saw the Fir Bolg citizens look to me with a mixture of awe, fear, and hate. My unnaturally keen senses picked up the whispers of conversation that spoke things like, “Black Sun”, “God of Evil”, “The Fallen One”, and “Savior.” I had protected them from the Ice Demon, but many knew me only as a figure of wickedness. It was leading to considerable confusion.

  I had that effect on people.

  I couldn’t help but wonder how our situation was being interpreted by the people outside who, after Redhand’s grand speech, were now the middle of a war in the heart of their city. Some would blame the nonhumans inside, certainly, but others still would start to wonder if their masters were as strong as they claimed. Either way, we had more people to kill before we could escape.

  An ash-covered woman, her long white hair full of the dust of a collapsed building, walked in front of us holding her three-year-old’s shattered body before speaking in the Old Tongue, “Please, Old One, return her to me. I don’t care about the Gods Between, I just want my Satale back.”

  I looked down at the child.

  I could restore a semblance of life to him. Make him an undead thing or a ghost or something akin to myself. But no magic beyond the Lawgiver and Great Mother’s own, perhaps, could restore the dead to true life. It was one of the rules of magic the Old Humans had set down upon us, something only the gods could reverse.

  And I was not divine enough to help.

  “You will be reunited with your son just as all of the dead will be with their loved ones when we have triumphed over the Lawgiver,” Serah said, waving her hand in front of her. “Such is the word.”

  I did a double-take at the monumental nature of the lie. Worse, realizing she’d added her magic to plant the idea deep in the woman’s subconscious.

  “Thank you,” the woman said, tears falling from her eyes.

  “Go,” Serah said, waving her away. She then projected an aura outward that caused the others to shy away from approaching.

  “That was monstrous,” I whispered.

  “Those who do not believe in the gods do not do so because they wish to,” Serah said, striding forward. “They do so because the world has not given them sufficient cause to believe in their existence, let alone mercy. It does not matter what we are or what we can do, Jacob; our existence provides them comfort, and that is enough.”

  I considered pointing out that was a lie but I wasn’t quite ready to live down the Trickster’s accusations of hypocrisy just yet.

  “Your benevolence is more real than most deity’s,” Serah said, continuing to reassure me what she’d done was the right thing to do. “Do you know what happens to souls that once went to the World Below?”

  I remembered the vast empty halls of the thousand hells. The palaces of iron, ice, and stone that had no inhabitants but the rare wandering demon. The dungeons of endless torture, lakes of fire, and oubliettes of eternal starvation were empty as well. Whereas once a hundred million or more souls had dwelled there, not more than ten thousand remained. They had simply vanished when I’d arisen to my position and decided not to continue holding spirits against their will. An irrational part of me wondered if they’d always been an illusion the Trickster generated to convince people to worship him.

  Would I do that? the Trickster asked. Would you believe me if I said yes? How about no?

  “No,” I whispered. “I do not. Some souls still come there, especially amongst our worshipers, but the rest move on.”

  “To where?” Serah asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Such is the cruelest mystery of all,” Serah said, her voice low. “Better to believe my brother was amongst the damned being tormented knowing I might see I see him again than believing he is forever beyond my reach.”

  “Death comes to us all, even gods.”

  “It’s not death I fear but what’s after.”

  I saw Regina moments later, standing next to Kana, in front of the Wild Goat Inn. The building had sustained some minor damage to one of the upper floors, bashing out a few windows, but otherwise looked intact. There was a selection of the Fire District’s elders as well as several well-dressed individuals of boggan and Bauchan descent around her plus three individuals who could not be mistaken for anything but Winterholme nobility.

  Winterholme’s rulers were all brown-skinned with a few possessing lighter skin than the others but still more so than the majority of the nation’s inhabitants. They preserved the old High Human bloodlines here, more so than in other nations, with spouses often chosen by how much they resembled the old Terralan Dominion ideal. Personally, I found the whole idea ridiculous since I was a fair shade swarthier than the majority of people and that was because of my mother’s line, which descended from a long string of cobblers. Hells, Serah was the most High Human-looking woman I’d ever met and until I’d met Ketra, I’d never encountered a person more disdainful of the nobility.

  Their clothes weren’t exactly concealing their identity either. Of the three, two were men wearing robes of office and enough gold to rival Captain Vass. The third was a woman a head taller than the others in full plate-mail forged a century ago, expensive modernized glyphs added to it, making her look more like a golem than a person.

  The female Jarl was a severe-looking middle-aged woman who reminded me of Miranda ni Bathas, the Traitor Queen. She had betrayed the Southern Kingdoms to ally with the King Below during the Fourth War only to be captured days before my death on the fields of its final battle.

  That would Miras ni Bathas, the Trickster informed me. Her descendant and ruler of the largest Jarldom in the North.

  You’re joking, I said, horrified. Her ancestor should have been stripped of her rank and sentenced to death by torment.

  I never joke, the Trickster said. That would require humanity to be more of one than it already is.

  How—

  Prince Alfreid the Unsteady overpromised his supporters amongst Winterholme’s nobility and foreign monarchs. By supporting her instead, a candidate no one liked, he forced her to rely on Imperial largesse to remain in power. Three civil wars and four succession crises later meant Winterholme never rose up as a rival to the empire as some believed possible. Of course, the prince
never could have come up with such a clever plan by himself.

  I growled, “Jassamine.”

  Serah shot me a strange look.

  I just shook my head.

  Be grateful, the Trickster said. If she’s anything like her ancestor then you have a delightfully self-interested parasite of an ally.

  Is she anything like her ancestor?

  She’s a noble, isn’t she?

  “Hello, Jacob,” Regina said, turning to me. “I was conversing with our new allies about recent events.”

  “Allies?” one of the richly appointed men said. He was a stout, overweight, and bald but still-strong-looking. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Perhaps you should have chosen to hedge your bets more clearly before committing treason, Jarl Borgas,” Jarl Miras said, her voice low and husky. “I do not think the Empress’s Rapine will be so understanding if you decide not to ally with us after this.”

  “King Borgas,” the man corrected. “The Winter Throne has sat empty since the royal family was slaughtered during the last war. Since none of you had the balls”— he emphasized the latter while addressing the taller woman—“to stand against Empress Morwen adding it to her honorifics, I see no reason not to claim that title with my own.”

  “Despite having no claim to the throne whatsoever,” the other man said. He was taller than Borgas, if not Miras, but looked every inch the proper king. I also guessed from the delicate nature of his hands and face that he’d never been out of comfortable environs a day in his life.

  “Fine answer, Jarl Stephens,” Jarl Borgas said, “from a man who has his title from marriage. Has your wife grown tired of having a pretty but useless ornament to decorate her court? Is that why she sent you? To die so she can marry someone half as young as her again?”

  “I have Jarl Wynessa’s full—” Jarl Stephens started to say.

  Regina gave me a look of exasperation as the three degenerated into arguing. I sympathized. One thing that had clearly not changed in the past two and a half centuries was the disposition of the nobility. All of them seemed pathologically incapable of looking beyond anything but their own interests.

  All except Regina.

  “The district elders have agreed to assist us in stopping the governor,” Kana said, her voice as polite and calm as it first was on the docks.

  “What do we care about the feelings of Stagmen?” Borgas said, growling. “We should be not meeting here in the first place.”

  I forced down my initial response and spoke diplomatically. “The situation has rapidly evolved, Jarl Borgas, which I’ve managed to take advantage of to do damage to the enemy. Our forces are arriving soon to take the city and then you will be able to see what we’re capable of as well as how we treat our citizens. All of our citizens.”

  One of the elders cast me a vile look.

  But held their silence.

  “I take it you are forwarding the idea of Kerifas as your territory, Your Highness?” Miras asked, perhaps feeling out what my intentions were.

  In truth, I hadn’t had time to think about what sort of agenda I should have for this situation as I was happy enough to break up the empire to its pre-war state. Indeed, I would have been happy to break up the empire to its pre-Fourth War state. Unfortunately, Serah’s warning about Regina left me wondering if Regina truly did intend to rule over a united southern and northern continent. There was also Rose’s words on the subject and my own memories of the countless wars fought between the bickering nobility had consumed uncounted thousands of lives.

  Could I, indeed, end it? Or would the action just create more chaos? It said volumes about my character that the chief objection I had to such a monstrous idea was I wasn’t sure it would work. How far had I fallen? Oh, right, I was the God of Evil now.

  I needed to remember that.

  “The negotiations for this meeting are things we shall handle in the full company of the other members of this organization. The subject of Kerifas and its administration will, naturally, fall to me and my brides, however, given the strategic significance.”

  I had never been very good at negotiation, and it would have been better to let Regina have it but I knew we needed to establish a beachhead here. I wanted to be the one to set them in their place, though. Which, when I thought about it, meant this was all just an issue of pride.

  “I think you will find the other members of the party less than amenable to dealing with anything but changing their underclothes,” Miras said, laughing. “They screamed and ran to the basement when the Ice Demon appeared. One of them ran out to beg forgiveness from Lord Hellsword but was buried beneath a shower of stone.”

  “A fitting fate for that fool,” Borgas said.

  “Fitting or not,” Stephens said, frowning, “Lord Karlyle was rich and influential. That is one less ally to face down against the empress’s retaliation.”

  “More for us,” Borgas said, snorting.

  “Is it us now, make up your mind,” Miras snapped, clearly as irritated with the pompous windbag as I was. “Also, before you start talking about balls, look to your genealogy. You are Jarl of Northkeep and the green forests of Valleyheart because of your grandmother.”

  Borgas started to say something that would, undoubtedly, trigger a fresh round of bickering and naysaying.

  Regina spoke instead. Her voice was incredibly soft and melodic. Almost mesmerizing. “Gentlemen, milady, we must decide our next course of action under advisement from those here on the ground. You are all invited to participate in the discussions and we shall work towards a mutually satisfactory arrangement. To start with, of course, we must remain in charge of all territories seized from the empire but you’ll, of course, agree this is the wisest course of action. You will, instead, administrate in our name.”

  “I see,” Borgas said, nodding.

  “Wise,” Miras said.

  The Holy Ones exchanged a glance before nodding.

  Even Kana seemed enraptured. “Yes, that sounds like the best idea.”

  Serah, by contrast, looked horrified. So did I. Because it wasn’t almost mesmerizing, it was mesmerizing.

  I grabbed Regina by the arm and pulled her away. She promptly pushed me away and growled. “Jacob, what are you doing?!”

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice low.

  “I am helping them decide on the right course of action,” Regina said, looking over at them. “They would have us carve up Winterholme like a cake then each try to take the biggest slice for themselves. You’re always complaining about the poor treatment of the peasantry, Jacob, and we can fix that. They just have to do their damned jobs properly. Make them listen the way they should and behave the way proper nobles should.”

  “You are the most improper noble I have ever met,” Serah said. “You would mentally enslave all of the others to be like you?”

  Serah surprised me by not coming to Regina’s defense. Perhaps she saw a difference between helping a mother come to terms with her child’s death and mind-controlling all our followers into our service.

  “No…I just…” Regina was obviously flush with the magic she’d channeled healing Ketra. It seemed her gift at healing had opened others, mind-control being one of the ones now at her disposal. One of the most dangerous and seductive of all gifts—as well as one of the evillest.

  “And the Fir Bolg?” I asked. “Are they to give up their dreams of a homeland because of the desire of you to outdo Morwen?”

  Regina looked more like she was slapped than from the actual slap. Her eyes narrowed and her voice became fierce. “How dare you!”

  “We are not the Lawgiver,” I said. “We are not the Trickster, either. Neither of those gods believes in free will. The latter enslaved all the Shadowkind races to his will and used them as puppets for millennia. The Lawgiver allows people the option of free will but attempts to control all choices. We have to be better than that.”

  Regina looked between us. “Is condemning the people underneath them
to endless war better? The conflicts between the nobility, ideology, races, and…it’s all insane!”

  “We can’t fix everything,” I said, sighing. “Perhaps that is the best lesson we can learn as gods.”

  Regina’s shoulders slumped. “What if this costs us everything? What if we can’t defeat Morwen? You see all around us what they’re willing to do to achieve victory. How many lives will be lost if we fail?”

  “All of them, possibly,” I said. “But do you want to do this, truly? How would you feel is Jassamine had made you…like her?”

  Regina stared at me then stared out over at Ketra, who was returning on horseback. “I would not be alive. I would be a puppet with her hand up my ass and squeezing my lungs to make noises.”

  I blinked. “A rather vivid but apt analogy.”

  “I will not become the tyrant my cousins fight against,” Regina said, biting her lip. “You realize, though, that we will have to force them to submit another way. Right? We can’t let them walk away from her as enemies or even neutral parties. We need the rebel lords united behind us if we’re to win.”

  “Yes,” Serah said.

  “You’re right, of course,” I said, feeling disgusted with myself. No matter which way we acted, war was still evil and it was merely a choice of how brutal it was going to be. “We need allies to defeat the empire. More so, we need subordinates. We must bring these Jarls underneath us as conquered subjects as well as collaborators. We just need to make them do it of their own free will.”

  Regina rubbed the side of her forehead “I want to bring peace to the land and kill my enemies. Must it be so hard to do both?”

  “Yes, or everyone would be doing it.”

  Serah placed her hand on Regina’s shoulder. “We can set the groundwork for our empire the old-fashioned way, without mind-control.”

  “How?” Regina asked.

  “We start by lying,” Serah said, smiling.

  Serah’s glib response distracted me from my next question: where had Regina learned how to bend men’s minds?