Wraith Lord

by Phipps, C. T.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Wild Goat Inn was a large structure with a central tap room converted into our impromptu place of negotiation. I sat at the far end of the chamber, in front of the roaring hearth, keeping my presence human but cloaked in shadows so as to be vaguely ominous. Serah stood beside me, doing her best to look appropriately wizardly but mostly focusing her attention on keeping the barrier around the Fire District up. Regina, by contrast, was standing in the center in order to maximize the amount of attention she commanded.

  Everyone was enjoying a meal as well as the inn’s homemade mushroom ale. The taste of brew had long been ashes in my mouth, a pleasure denied to me whereas others were not, but I didn’t have a body anyway, so it didn’t matter. The others seemed to enjoy the Fir Bolg’s brew, however, which was about the only thing going right tonight. Negations were, as expected, a complete clusterfuck.

  Even with lying.

  With copious lying.

  The nobility gathered by Gewain and Rose came in roughly three types: those who were secret worshipers of the old King Below, those who didn’t mind allying with the new King Below if it meant expanding their power base, and those genuinely offended by the abuses perpetuated by the empress. One could guess which of the three were most troubled by my presence. Also which ones I really wished we could win over.

  Ketra had made it seem it would be easy to convince the nobility to lend their armies to us as well as political support. Indeed, that they were all ready to acknowledge us as their overlord. The truth was, of course, more complex. Some of them were, indeed, all ready to crown the three of us rulers of both the northern and southern continent with Winterholme as our first new domicile. Most, however, wanted what Kana had wanted: guarantees. They desired help in putting down their ancestral enemies, promises of territory they had claim on (or no claim at all), and copious payments in gold as well as silver.

  Even those who were willing to work with as subordinates were difficult. Was Winterholme to be a feudal territory answering directly to Everfrost or a principality? Would it have its own monarch? Would they answer to the King Below directly or simply pay homage? What was the answer to issues of religion? Would everyone be expected to convert to worshiping the Iron Order’s Triumvirate or would there be freedom of religion? Those who suggested reviving slavery were, at least, thankfully shouted down. Unfortunately, this just meant they rephrased themselves as requesting the right to reinstitute serfdom. I would never, ever, argue for mind-control. But, an hour in, it was sorely tempting to revisit Regina’s original plan.

  “Worship of the Lawgiver and Great Mother would be permitted along with the Gods Between amongst other deities both real as well as fictional,” I said, clarifying the seventy-second point of tonight’s discussion. “Those caught engaged in conspiracy against the Crown or nobility as well as colluding with the Grand Temple would be considered guilty of treason, however. Until the Grand Temple acknowledges the right of the Iron Order to continue to exist, it should be considered an enemy organization.”

  “Nothing incites the population quite like a martyr,” Jarl Borgas said, taking a sip of wine from a goblet. “If we do need to execute them all, we should do in private rather than public. Priests are all fuckers of boys and girls anyway. Not a single one of them hasn’t got his hand in the poor box.”

  This incited a fresh round of arguing which was, thankfully, paused by a round of spells detonating against the barrier over our heads. The Burning Blades’ wizards were trying to breach the barrier again. The sound was dulled by Serah’s magic, but still loud enough to be heard over the shouting. I imagined them probing Serah’s barrier for weaknesses, plotting some way to break through to kill us all as we laid our own plans.

  We will not resolve this issue tonight, Serah projected her thoughts to me. These fools cannot agree on their own weight.

  We were never supposed to succeed in convincing any of these to join our cause. This was a trap for them. Gewain seemed to have a plan for dealing with them, but he’s not present and rescuing him isn’t feasible just yet.

  So is there any point to negotiating at all? Serah said, shrugging her bare shoulders. She had changed into black dress that was just this side of daring compared to modern Imperial sensibilities. Shouldn’t we be focused on slaying Hellsword and Redhand?

  Aren’t you? I teased.

  Indeed, I am, Serah said, giving a half-smirk. I was just wondering if you were contributing anything.

  I have ordered the gathering of every Burning Blade corpse and have had them dumped in a specific spot in the sewers. I have also gathered all the armaments present and returned them. With necromancy, we can raise a proper army to send to distract the forces gathered outside the barrier. You can weaken the barrier in the spot around them, allowing Regina and me to slip through.

  Not me? Serah asked.

  We can’t abandon the Fire District to destruction. You need to stay behind and hold the barrier up for as long as you can. Are you prepared for that?

  Yes.

  Good. I sighed and gave her a further explanation. We need to establish a precedent here at the table. Something the nobles here can bring to their fellows or demonstrate we can be negotiated with. If we appear reasonable, don’t engage in the monstrous behavior of the old King Below, more people are likely to surrender and even defect. What saves lives also weakens our enemy’s will to fight.

  I know how war works, Jacob. Every friend you make is one less enemy.

  Sorry. I just wish there was some miracle we could pull off to get these bastards to go with us. One not involving mind-control.

  That is already taken care of.

  What?

  Watch.

  Lord Grost, a tall, bearded man in shining armor, almost drew his sword before instead slamming his fist on the table in front of him. “I grow sick of this constant back-and-forth. The Nine Usurpers are a pestilence on our lands, destroying our ancient traditions and ways, which you fools seek to prevent by inviting a greater evil! I, for one, refuse to be part of any further negotiations with this…monster!”

  I looked at Serah. “Do you think he’s talking about me?”

  Serah rolled her eyes.

  “A fine one to speak of monsters, Grost,” Miras said, banging her mug against the table. “Or do you deny murdering your own brother to become baron?”

  “He was mad! Unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality! He believed chairs talked to him! It was a mercy killing!” Lord Grost said, holding his hands on his chest.

  “In my land, we lock mad kin up rather than kill them,” a Jarl I hadn’t caught the name of said in between bites of roast chicken.

  This started a fresh round of arguing.

  Regina rose from her seat in the center and addressed them all. “I grow weary of your constant aspersions to my husband’s character. You knew Jacob Riverson as the Dark Lord of Despair, yes, but it was your ancestors who were enslaved by the King Below. The Wraith Knights are no more, and the Wraith Lord before you is one who is once more a great hero of man.”

  Regina was rather exaggerating there.

  “Listen—” Grost began to say.

  “Silence!” Regina shouted. The entire room seemed to darken as she absorbed every bit of light but what illuminated her. “You bicker here like children when Hellsword and Redhand’s plan was to catch you like fish in a net before destroying this ancient hallowed city. The Usurpers do not merely come for your wealth and position but to beat and smelt your people until they are is nothing more than the whipped dogs of the empire! I have witnessed the dawning of the new and terrible age that is to come. One brought about by a Lawgiver who is not what he promised us. It is an age of flame and horror where only ashen earth remains where vibrant fields once were. I would do anything to prevent this from coming to pass and the only way to do so is unified. One sword, one shield, horse, and knight directing it.”

  “And you shall be that knight?” Jarl Borgas said, skeptical
of her impassioned plea.

  “Yes,” Regina said simply. “I am the Empress of the North and South by right of blood, marriage, deed, and divine right. You will each have a chance to see a Winterholme rise to the glory equal to that of the Easternlands if you choose to fight under me. Those who do not shall not leave this city alive.”

  “What?” Jarl Borgas said, standing up. “How dare you?!”

  Others joined him.

  Regina shouted them down. “None of you can choose to agree on the terms here because you fear treachery from the others. Today we shall swear a blood oath before the Triumvirate, a binding geas that shall keep us all to our purpose! None shall turn from our cause and live. Those who fulfill their purpose shall know everlasting glory. Those who do not shall be turned out now to face Hellsword’s inquisitors and Redhand’s torturers.” It was an outrageous demand and I expected all of them to refuse.

  None did. Not even Borgas.

  The threat, of course, was partially the reason. I had no doubt Regina would kill each and every individual who refused to abide by the covenant she drew up in the next ten minutes. There was more, though, much to my surprise. For all my talk of planting seeds, I had forgotten what it was like to believe in something. I had once been willing to destroy whole nations in the name of reforming the Grand Temple and ending slavery. Immortality had robbed me of my idealism, but it had not done so with these. Instead, Regina’s words had cut through their anger life a knife and not even my presence here had undone it.

  I see your point, I projected at Serah.

  Do not be overly moved, Serah said. Gewain promised many of these individuals’ hefty bribes even before they arrived. I found out when I scanned their minds at the beginning of the meeting. Since then, I’ve been telepathically confirming we will pay them in Iron Order gold, land, and more. Most of them were willing to abandon their larger demands when I told them their neighbors had been willing to take up the burdens they were unwilling to shoulder—in exchange for smaller rewards. The terms I’ve negotiated are quite reasonable, and that’s assuming we honor any of them.

  We will, I said. Provided they behave in an honorable fashion during the war.

  The terms are quite reasonable, she repeated, assuming we honor any of them.

  I chuckled. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?

  You’ve been very understanding of my secrecy so I didn’t think you’d mind. Besides, I love my games.

  Mine are usually less cerebral and more sweaty.

  Serah snorted then smiled. Believe me. I know. To think I used to think Fisherfolk of your time were reserved.

  I actually meant blacksmithing and war, but that works too. Does Regina know you and Gewain rigged everything?

  I decided to let her do her speech uninformed. It’s more passionate that way and believable.

  Well played.

  Regina in the next ten minutes presented a compact for each of them to sign and an oath that bore a suspicious similarity to the one the King Below had forced upon his followers. The fanatics amongst the King Above’s worshipers were not present, today, while those who believed in the Gods Between had already left. The document was a little too erudite for something to have been created spontaneously and I couldn’t help but wonder if Ketra had helped her sister with it. Either way, we were all in agreement in the end.

  Regina stepped to the top of the centermost table and pulled forth Starlight above her head, beginning the binding oath. It was powerful magic that would take the mightiest archmage a year to learn but she’d done through divine will alone. Amongst the three of us, she believed in it the most, and that seemed to make it flow the swiftest and most powerful.

  “We shall conquer the Southern Kingdoms and raise a United Empire of the North and South between us!” Regina shouted.

  “For Winterholme!”

  “For the Triumvirate!”

  “For honor!”

  Every one of the people here was now ready to lead their followers to the death. I felt, in that moment, very much like the Nuckelavee.

  But I swore the oath too.

  Only a single person merely mouthed the words and stumbled over them, unable to finish it.

  Ketra.

  If Regina noticed her cousin’s reticence, she didn’t mention it and then stepped down off the table. “We must make haste to deal with Hellsword and Redhand. Kerifas is the first city that will fall of the Southern Kingdoms and shall be a preview for every other nation to what we can do for them. We shall bring forth Gewain and the other prisoners before raising the flag of the people over this land—a land that will shine forever more as a symbol of what gods and men can do working in together.”

  There was an epic cheer.

  They were committed now.

  Gods help them.

  It took all of my effort to avoid saying, So it would be wise to avoid everyone in the city being killed in a massive blood magic sacrifice.

  Instead, I just bowed my head.

  Serah, are you ready to let the next part of our plan go forth?

  I will hold the Fire District. I promise you. Whenever you’re ready.

  I nodded. I need an hour or so more to gather my strength. The day has been…taxing…and I do not wish to overextend myself before the fight with Hellsword.

  Do not underestimate Redhand. My old lover is formidable, but Redhand has killed armies. You cannot slay him, only slow him down.

  We shall see.

  Gewain’s room is empty. Go there. Regina has some more hands to shake and babies to kiss.

  I looked over to Ketra alone, who, despite her burns, seemed to be both excited and troubled by the directions things had took. Unfortunately, I could not bring myself to speak with her.

  Walking up a set of stairs to the side, I sought Gewain’s bedroom on the top floor and pushed open the door to take a moment to rest and regenerate.

  Standing on the other side was Fel Hellsword.

  Smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I took in Fel Hellsword’s appearance in the half-second it took for me to react to his presence. He was an impossibly beautiful chalk-white-skinned man with a single noticeable flaw: the left side of his face around his eye was covered in a thick, red splotchy birthmark that could have easily been corrected with magic, but had been left alone.

  Hellsword had the thin, sharp features of Natariss’s ruling caste with cheekbones so sharp one could cut a finger on them. His hair was long, stringy, and black, hanging over his shoulders with little care or attention. His complete lack of care toward his appearance only added to his attractiveness, though, given there was a sense of utter confidence as well as power radiating from the man. Hellsword was wearing a custom-tailored silk and shimmer-cloth long coat, pants, and doublet that invoked the appearance of a wizard’s robes while being practical for long-term military expeditions.

  Every one of his long, delicate fingers had a magical ring on it with his ears pierced with a half-dozen more. Amulets, necklaces, and charms of power hung around his neck even as I saw the top of blood wards tattooed on his chest up to his neck’s base. Both his arms bore caste writing that marked his lineage in intricate, beautiful tattoos that listed an impressive array of mystical as well as political accomplishments. His sword, Plaguebringer, was attached to the side of his belt in a heavily warded dragon-bone sheath and seemed to whisper pleas for mercy and writhe with the screams of the damned.

  I responded to his presence by drawing Chill’s Fury and plunging it forward through his chest before he had a chance to say anything.

  It went through his chest and out the other side to no effect, as if stabbing smoke.

  Hellsword looked annoyed. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not actually going to show up in your room for you to kill me.”

  “A pity,” I said, twisting my sword hilt for good measure. “An astral projection?”

  “Something like that,” Hellsword said, taking a step back off my blade. “I’ve been trying to
work my way around Serah’s barrier for the past few hours and only just now have succeeded. Even so, it’s not exactly letting me do much.”

  The astral projection flickered a bit.

  “Serah’s improved a great deal since her apprenticeship,” Hellsword said, cheerfully. “I assume that’s the doing of having unfettered access to the King Below’s library. Millennia of necromancers’ research, the secrets of the gods, and notes reflecting experiments conducted without concern to morality or law. It must be glorious.”

  I sheathed my sword and closed the door behind me. “Hardly. Serah spends more of her time correcting the poor mathematics of the books than actually making progress with them. I do, however, fund her research to the limits it can be pressed. She and her assistants are the real geniuses.”

  “Of course,” Hellsword said, smiling. “I understand you are quite the magical engineer yourself, almost as good as Tharadon the Black and Co’Fannon. A pity you murdered those two before they could lead us to an age of unparalleled technological and mystical wonder.”

  “Yes, well, I was young and foolish. Sorry to deprive you of the opportunity to burn their books and persecute them for heresy.”

  Hellsword’s smile disappeared. “Witty.”

  “I have the suspicion you’re used to being the only one allowed to be an obnoxious ass in the room. But if you’ll excuse me, I have to banish your presence from this place.”

  I started chanting an exorcism and moving my fingers to invoke the energies necessary to drive out his spirit.

  “I’m curious if there’s anything I can do to make peace between our two nations.”

  I stopped my enchantment. “You must be joking.”

  “I never joke about peace. Just because it’s always temporary doesn’t mean it’s not worth pursuing.”

  “You intended to massacre everyone in the Fire District.”

  “Redhand intended to massacre everyone in the Fire District. I was going to lead to an uprising by the city’s nobility and criminals with a giant demon in the center to kill just as many people.”