by John Mangold
Cruentus nodded but did not look to Maluem as she did so. Her eyes remained on the carcass of Skylla, her expression a mixture of pity and disgust. It seemed that she did not wholly accept that opinion, and Maluem knew there was good reason for her doubt. After all, how much more did Cruentus know of Maluem than she did of Skylla?
Furthermore, Maluem knew what she told Cruentus was not the absolute truth, but at this moment, she could not be sure how Cruentus would react to the unvarnished version. Better to ease her mind for now and leave the actual implications of what she had learned to a more convenient time.
As the two searched for some form of exit, the screeching bellow of alarms thundered through the room. It seemed the death of the royals had not gone unnoticed. Guards were undoubtedly on their way to affect the execution of those responsible. In their current shape, Maluem doubted that either of them would last terribly long. Flight was the only logical solution but to where?
With surprising speed, Cruentus managed to make it across the floor to a door marked ‘Landing Pad.’ Maluem recognized both words but had no idea what pairing them could mean. Before she could ask Cruentus the sign’s implications, the woman slung the armored door open, allowing a blast of strong wind to flow into the chamber, striking her full in the face as it swept across the room.
Stepping through, the two women found themselves facing a hovering Gorgon. As a ramp lowered from the beast’s flank, Cruentus crouched down, preparing to leap to the vehicle’s side, possibly hoping to gain some ambush position on the troops that were certain to pour out. Given the distance she would need to cover, such a tactic seemed unlikely to succeed, but what other option did they have?
“Stop!” Maluem screamed before Cruentus could execute her move.
Looking up into the slit-like windows of the craft, Maluem could see a grim but familiar face staring back at her. It was Torrez. She did not know how he had achieved this, and at this moment, she did not care. The Gorgon he now piloted was their only avenue of salvation. Motioning Cruentus to follow, Maluem made the best speed she could across the massive platform, leaning heavily on her staff as she limped towards the waiting monstrosity.
36.
Interrogating the Dead
Lord Daimos’s wings twitched in agitation as he strolled through the command post’s upper floors. He had rummaged through the minds of every surviving Captus guard, and not one provided a scrap of information as to where Maluem had headed from here. All he had to show for his efforts was a pile of shredded flesh and charred metal after his interrogations were complete. It was not the loss of soldiery that vexed him so profoundly, but the fact that they had provided so little in their deaths.
Returning to the Command Chamber where he had found the remains of the erstwhile royalty of House Captus, Lord Daimos surveyed the devastation. For all his investment of knowledge and technology into the two, he had profited little. Skylla’s head appeared to have partially disintegrated, while Letifer had no head at all. As he gazed upon the grizzly mess, he could not decide which fate was worse.
With a wave of his gauntlet laden hand, Letifer’s headless corpse rose from the ground to stand rather awkwardly before his Lord. Daimos had not reanimated the thing, only put a bit of his energy into the artificial muscles and servos that motivated the body. This afforded him a much better look at the damage without having to stoop down to view it. Lord Daimos did so hate to have to lower himself to examine refuse.
Looking at the pulverized remains, Daimos realized only a precise and mighty strike to the back of the head could cause such damage. This could be achieved through magic, to be sure, but a mystical explosion of that potency would have taken a large portion of the shoulders with it. No, this would have to be a projectile the size of a fist, and since there were no large bore rifles about, nor any signs of weapons fire in the walls or machinery, there was only one answer left.
“Assassin,” Daimos muttered aloud.
Most likely from that group I found in the Northern Tower. Daimos thought. Another of Furaxis’s unbridled plagues. No telling how many of that project’s victims are still roaming about. I suppose I will have to hunt down those twisted minions myself, but that shall wait.
It does seem curious that Furaxis would send four assassins instead of the standard squad of three. It also seems improbable that the Captus soldiers would have dealt with a whole team of villains without suffering a single casualty.
No, it is more likely that one was not a member of their squad. A traitor, if you will, on a separate mission, possibly that criminal that escaped the Gladiator Arena earlier this day. She must have come here seeking revenge for her imprisonment. The lone fugitive must have dealt with the other three and then made her way in here to kill Letifer. This would have to be a formidable subject, to survive against such odds as that. She will be the first Assassin I exterminate once I possess the time to do so.
Daimos pulled back his energy from the remains of Letifer and allowed his corpse to collapse to the ground with a combined thud of metal and flesh. Gliding over to Skylla’s remains, finding her in a sitting position with her hands laying palms up on her lap. She was a pitiful sight, to be sure. Most of the enhancements had fallen from her skull, leaving a jumble of half-healed flesh, and rotted meat. Daimos was positive that if he had possessed a stomach, it would empty at the site. However, all he felt was disgust that he had invested so much in one so critically flawed.
With a wave of his hand, he imparted one final parcel of energy into Skylla’s form, activating the muscles in her body to follow his commands. Looking into her now empty sockets, Daimos was most impressed with the damage. This was indeed a magical assault, one no assassin could achieve. He had to admit to himself that it was quite brilliant. Using a healing spell to kill? He could not remember a Sorcerer doing such a thing. He would have to remember it, should the occasion arise.
Guiding the course of the electricity in the corpse, Daimos directed energy to the cerebral enhancers he had installed so many years earlier. They were intended to make the royals faster and smarter than the average augmented human. However, one would wonder if the surgeries were worth the effort, considering the pathetic performance of these two. Still, the devices could yet serve a purpose if they captured some of Skylla’s final thoughts before her head collapsed.
“Assassin…. Mara Cephas…” Skylla whispered.
“Useless,” Lord Daimos replied to the corpse. Investing a bit more energy, Daimos forced more power to the enhancer. “Where was Maluem headed? Where did they go from here?”
“Assassin…Mara…must…die…” Skylla gasped before smoke began to rise from the ruinations that had been her ears and eye sockets. It seemed the enhancers had exceeded their usefulness, melting into the diseased tissue they were once intended to assist. Daimos dropped her corpse in disgust.
I already know there was an assassin involved. What consequence could the murderer's name be? Daimos thought. Did she intend to say Maluem? No, Skylla was dim, but not that much so. Unless she meant Mara Cephas, the name of her adopted sister. As I recall, Mara and another girl were rescued as infants, during that archeological dive near the Tear of Azeza, just before I brought those sporadic campaigns to an end.
Those girls raised quite a stir in the Royal Families of Camilos and Santilis, although I never understood what fascination they held. Mara seemed quite normal, other than that white hair of hers, remarkably similar to… But that is impossible. She could not be related to him. Yet, could those two events have been related somehow? Might those girls have been found on the Tear, or near it at the very least?
If so, would Maluem have moved to assist this woman in finding her roots as payment for release from Skylla and Letifer? That would make sense, considering the fate Cruentus rescued her from. If all of this is so, the pair would have needed a Gorgon to swiftly reach the island. That would explain the one reported stolen by the Captus Guard.
However, they could not have acquired that ve
hicle themselves. There must have been a third party involved, a pilot who obtained the machine for them, knowing precisely where to pick them up and when. If my suspicions are correct, and this trio currently approaches the island, they could conceivably…
With a series of fluid motions, Daimos scorched an elaborate pallet in the air before him. Each electric blue cluster of icons floated like solar systems in a model galaxy, each in its own hierarchy and orbital pattern. With a few motions of his fingers, Daimos shuffled through the groupings until he arrived at their center, the one Master Rune that he had created some a millennia ago. He had only needed to use it on one occasion before now, and that was to start a war. He would now use it for another purpose to ensure the conflict’s survival.
Directly next to the Master Rune, Daimos created an icon symbolizing the missing Gorgon. He then dragged the Gorgon’s icon over it, the central symbol, allowing it to hover over the focal point of his little galaxy. All he need do to set the Rune System in motion was release the Gorgon’s icon. Once those two Runes combined, every one of his millions of minions, from Santilis to Furaxis, would make it their sole mission in life to destroy that single rogue Gorgon. Even if it meant their own deaths. It was a heady proposition, even for one as powerful as he.
However, the thought of the word ‘death’ brought another concern to mind. When the masses finally cornered that wayward machine, they would not stop at the aircraft’s destruction. All occupants would be slain as well. This was not a problem for Lord Daimos directly, but it created a conflict with another's wishes.
Maluem was not to be harmed or obstructed in any way. This was the command Daimos had been tasked with. But how could he not? If Maluem succeeded in taking what was on that island, Daimos would lose control over millions of bindings. A millennium of scheming would all be for naught! But, if he allowed his minions to resolve this dilemma, or worse, if they botched it as Skylla and Letifer had, things could be much worse for him. Considering this, Daimos allowed the newly created icon to fade into nothing, never fulfilling its purpose.
With a wave of his hand, the Rune System vanished once more. This task was far too delicate to be left to the clumsy hands of minions. Daimos would personally put an end to this fool’s errand, and if that meant the demise of this Maluem, so be it. Once the smoke cleared, they would simply need to find a new pawn to manipulate. There was nothing else for it. With a curt nod of his head, Lord Daimos was gone, leaving only the dead to play witness to his passing.
39.
Negotiating a Course Forward
It took Maluem a bit of bravery to climb the lowered ramp of the Gorgon. As she approached the lumbering pile of flying scrap, she was vividly reminded of her prior experience with such a contraption. As the memories of their narrow escape from that doomed craft flowed back to her, she felt an unbidden chill run up her spine. If it had not been for the skillful piloting of Torrez and Shelia, the whole party would have found their journey’s end at the bottom of a smoldering crater.
The thought of that second name gave Maluem a new reason to dread entering the mechanical monstrosity before her. Shelia, how could she have forgotten about Shelia? The last time Maluem had seen her Acolyte, Shelia had been mortally wounded by an unseen assault. Quickening her unsteady pace up the ramp, Maluem’s mind filled with images of Shelia’s possible fate, each vision more horrific than the last. She feared what she might learn, but now she had to find out.
With each step, Maluem tried to convince herself that’s Shelia’s wound had not been as bad as it first appeared. However, as she crested the final flight of stairs, stepping into the airborne behemoth's control room, Maluem came face to face with the reality of the situation. There Shelia sat, carefully buckled into one of the crew member’s seats. Yet, despite this illusion of normalcy, it was clear the woman was not breathing, her skin as pale as milk. The implications struck Maluem hard as she slowly sank to the floor next to the clearly deceased woman.
“Maluem, Thank Azbel, you’re alright,” Torrez exclaimed as he worked the Gorgon’s controls feverishly, the craft’s frame tilting and shrieking as it strove to follow his commands. “See to Shelia. She needs your help badly!”
“Kulk, what happened to her?” Volo gasped in Maluem’s ear.
Maluem could feel that he was close, hear his voice as though he were sitting right next to her, but his body was nowhere to be seen. She reasoned that it was probably due to the crystals' current state of recovery.
“Torrez, you realize-” Maluem began, still looking at Shelia’s lifeless form.
“I know healing isn’t your strong suit,” Torrez cut in. “But do what you can. Maybe, if you stabilize her, we can get back to Enox, and Nia can do the rest.”
“Be careful, Maluem,” Volo’s voice warned. “Remember how Torrez reacted to Shelia being wounded. You may have to be a bit diplomatic-”
“Torrez, Shelia is dead,” Maluem said.
“Well done, Wurncaster,” Volo replied with a frustrated grunt.
“Yes, but if you heal her, you could bring her back-” Torrez retorted, his argument cut short as the craft took a sudden lunge to the left. It was clear the man’s attention was not entirely on navigation.
“Torrez, this is not about healing anymore. This is about rebuilding. I cannot fathom where to start. Simply bringing her system back, undoing all the decomposition which has already begun, would be daunting enough. But, before I could even think of restarting her heart, I would have to reconstruct all this wound destroyed-”
“Well then, we take her back to Nia,” Torrez declared, the Gorgon dipping once more as he changed course to head towards the southern border with Enox. “She will know how to bring Shelia back.”
“Torrez, no!” Maluem screamed. “You know that is not possible! First, we would never reach the border. Cruentus and I just destroyed both members of the Santilis Crown! I am certain that our murder will be the focus of the entire Santilis nation. We would not stand a chance!”
“This reminds me of how we left Enox,” Volo remarked. “And Camilos before that, and the Archives before that, and the town of Nisi... Say, there seems to be a pattern here.”
“Second of all,” Maluem continued, doing her best to shut out Volo’s voice. “Nia would not be able to repair Shelia’s condition any better than I. Resurrection is well beyond her scope of knowledge and mystical strength. If we were lucky enough to reach her without being butchered by the Santilis Military or arrested by the Enox border patrol, she would only tell you the same thing that I am now.”
“You expect me to give up?” Torrez demanded, his voice cracking.
“Never,” Maluem shouted. “I am offering an alternative. If we continue our path north, there is a device that may grant me the power I need to bring Shelia back. We will find this artifact on an island called the ‘Tear of Azeza.’ Do you know where that is? Can you deliver us there?”
“Maluem, how could you possibly know that device will-” Volo began.
“Volo, you said yourself Torrez is in a delicate state,” Maluem struggled to whisper. “He needs hope to continue, and this is the best I can offer. That Cell is the only chance I have of reviving this woman, if that is possible at all. What else can I do? If you have a better plan, offer it now, or be silent.”
“Maluem, are you certain you can do this? Can you save Shelia?” Torrez called back, a desperate hope ringing in his voice.
“That device is the best hope Shelia has,” Maluem yelled back. “For now, I will cast a stasis spell on Shelia to make certain her condition does not worsen. Once we have the Cell and are safely on foreign shores, I will do all that I can to restore her, body and soul.”
“Worsen?” Volo spoke once more in Maluem’s ear. “How can her condition worsen? She’s dead!”
“You would hardly be the proper person to ask that question, would you, Volo?” Maluem replied.
“Thanks, Wurncaster.”
“Who are you talking to,” Cruentus broke
in, “and who is this Wurncaster?”
“I cannot say with any accuracy,” Maluem replied. “I believe it is an inside joke that amuses Volo alone. Wait…are you saying you can hear his voice?”
“Volo?” Cruentus repeated, ignoring Maluem’s question.
“Volo returned? I thought we lost him,” Torrez shouted back as the aircraft lurched once again, returning to a northern course.
“No, he is still amongst us, though in voice only for the moment,” Maluem replied. “His absence during the crystal failure did concern me deeply. However, now that he is partially restored, I am beginning to wonder why I fretted at all.”
“The Crystals didn’t fail,” Torrez shouted. “I did! Tell me, did Thayne ever place a hand on your staff, possibly while you were in the tunnels?”
“Yes, once, to steady himself. Why?” Maluem asked.
“Was he rubbing his wrist before he did?” Torrez pressed.
“I am not certain, but I believe he may have,” Maluem admitted. “What are you driving at? Did Thayne have something to do with Volo’s disappearance?”
“It is a complex story,” Torrez began. “The short version is, Thayne was jealous of me for being a Neophyte. He exploited my master’s chemical addiction, convincing the old fool to cast me out as a traitor. Thayne then usurped my position while convincing Shelia and me to escape over the southern border, acting as though this was a favor. The only person he was helping was himself!
“When we reappeared with you at our side, he knew exactly who you were. Thayne made plans to turn you in for the bounty and rid himself of Shelia and me once and for all. He used bindings like mine to drain your staff, removing Volo from the equation and simultaneously weakening you. He then arranged for that ambush in the cell, shooting Shelia in the back when she subdued the soldiers. I think the ceiling collapse caught him off guard, but all else went right according to plan.”
