Daughter of War

by Brendan Wright

  A whir sounded from the metal arms as they released the two girls. Riffolk's scatter gun and dart gun were in his hands again; they didn't dare move. The Tyran eyed him, pure defiance painted on her features. Tyrans, though naive enough to have been unknowing slaves for over a thousand years, were undeniably tenacious. He'd read reports of the recent escape attempt; "the uprising", as it was being referred to. They'd put up quite a fight, according to his contacts in the military and Symond's office.

  They were beaten, of course, and put back underground. Their situation must be so much worse; now that they knew they were slaves, their work moving the energy mills would be robbed of its previously glorious purpose. Riffolk found the idea particularly amusing. Having a whole people unite against their oppressors, rising up together to fight; only to be crushed and swept back into servitude within a matter of hours.

  Luckily, the military had contained the fight to the district where it had started. The entrance to the Tyran underground was within the military district of Dreadhold anyway, of course, where it could be under constant surveillance and instantly defended. The general population had no idea Tyra even existed, let alone that its people had just staged a revolution.

  Riffolk knew it was the Shenza woman, even if no one else in Ermoor was aware of her existence. The Tyrans themselves could never have figured out how to leave their dreary little world. The girl with Mara was looking at him as though she was just waiting for her opportunity to strike. From the look in her eyes, she had no idea her people were already back in captivity. Telling her would be delicious, watching the fire stutter and die in her eyes, savouring her grief and observing her reactions afterwards. Were he a betting man, he'd put his money on her giving one last rebellious attack, giving up her life to try to take his. He looked forward to it.

  Now that they were free, he watched them keenly. He was confident he could handle them, but lapsing into carelessness would get himself killed. Riffolk had always been a careful man. He gestured to one of the benches in the lab.

  "Come, I'd like to show you my work." He kept his voice light, conversational, and he saw the confusion and unease in both of their faces. Mara moved first, wanting to enter his good graces. The Tyran continued to stare, sensing a trap. As worthless as she was, her survival instincts couldn't be faulted. He raised the scatter gun to point at her face, raising his eyebrows just slightly. She moved slowly, keeping her eyes on him but glancing briefly at the bench as she drew closer.

  The bench he'd motioned to was fairly large, and covered in several projects. One of them was a technology he'd seen in his travels, which he was certain would be a great source of income once he could reverse engineer the design effectively. It wasn't dangerous or "evil" at all, but its purpose today would cause an incredible amount of pain to the Tyran girl. It was a glass screen with some machinery attached which could receive and project moving images sent by a transmitter which captured those images from a distance. It was beautiful. The concept was very similar to the teleradio device he'd built years ago, but with images instead of sound.

  This screen, his prototype, was currently displaying a large room from a high angle. The room contained a gigantic horizontal wheel, slowly turning under the efforts of a hundred Tyran slaves. The girls both gasped when they saw the moving image, their eyes equally wide, disbelieving.

  "What... is this magic?" Mara said.

  "How are you doing this?" the Tyran said at the same time.

  Riffolk smiled.

  "This is a projection device. There is a transmitter in one of your wheel rooms, capturing this image, right now. What you're seeing is Tyra at this very instant."

  She stared, and he waited for the realisation. It didn't take long; she wasn't as stupid as she looked.

  "That's – they're alive. They weren't killed... the monsters didn't get them after all." Stunned. Relieved, but only for the barest second. He smiled as he watched the flash of hope twist into grief.

  "Monsters? You still have no idea, do you? There are no monsters, girl. Not in Ermoor. The 'monsters' that attack you and your people are simply soldiers."

  She didn't answer; he kept pushing.

  "I don't know how they escaped, but it didn't take long to get them back under control."

  "They escaped... But they were recaptured?"

  "Oh yes. Did you really think a bunch of emaciated slaves with no weapons or armour would stand a chance against the might of Ermoor's military? Come now, surely you're not that naive."

  He watched her carefully, and the emotions played out as he predicted; her spark of rage flickered, died, and her shoulders hunched. Grief and dismay washed over her face. He sighed gently, savouring her defeat. Now he just needed to watch out for her inevitable last stand. Mara, to his surprise, looked just as grief-stricken as the Tyran. He didn't understand it, but that could complicate things; bringing her back under his control once the other girl was dead would be difficult if she'd built up an emotional connection to the slave.

  "It's a great invention, don't you agree?"

  There. The spark of fury inside her wasn't completely dead after all. She looked up at him, not bothering to hide the hatred in her face. Her lips curled, baring filthy teeth. Her fists clenched at her sides, white and trembling. She was ready to fight, which meant she was ready to die. He'd only let her live this long so Mara would have an interesting new pet to keep her entertained. His servants had told him of her depression, her wandering the gardens and sneaking out of the mansion at night. The night she'd come back with this one, this animal, Riffolk had informed the servants to make themselves busy elsewhere, so Mara could bring the Tyran in through the front doors. She hadn't even questioned her "good luck".

  He was tired of the game now. The Tyran was nowhere near as interesting as he'd hoped she would be. Her passion was intriguing, but beyond that she was just like the others; all the playthings in Ermoor were just so boring. Mara would hopefully be a challenge after tonight, but her loyalty was almost unquestioning, and it wouldn't be long before she was his again. At least he still had his inventions to focus on; were it not for them he would have gone insane from boredom years ago.

  His scatter gun was loaded, resting in his right hand, heavy and lethal. Not here though, he thought, I want to see their reactions to the creature.

  "There's one invention far greater, however. Over there, both of you. Now."

  He gestured with his left hand, empty now that he'd holstered the dart gun. Both girls walked towards the tank, though the Tyran stared daggers at him before moving. She was close to the edge, close to attacking him like the animal she was. He relished the turmoil in her eyes. The scatter gun felt as though it was buzzing in his hand, the potential energy of the explosion mounting as his finger itched to pull the trigger. These moments were his favourite; the anticipation of bringing someone to the edge, building their hope, their rebellion, and then crushing it all.

  Riffolk stayed behind them as they approached the tank. Their fear and discomfort was palpable. He watched the Tyran intently, ready for her to attack. She kept her head straight, staring at the creature in the tank, and didn't try anything. When they reached the thick glass wall, she glanced back at him. His finger, anticipating resistance, twitched and almost ended her; but she still didn't attack.

  "Do you know what this is?" He asked her.

  "A monster," she said. He smiled.

  "No, though it is certainly monstrous. And what I will achieve with it... Very much so. But would you call this weapon a monster?" He shifted the scatter gun slightly. "Or merely a tool?"

  She shook her head, dull and defeated.

  "What's your point? If you're going to kill me, I'd rather you do it before I have to listen to you talk for hours."

  Mara let out a whimper at the mention of possible murder.

  "I want you to know exactly what I'm doing in this lab. You see, Ermoor has been harvesting energy from Tyra for over a thousand years. That power has sustained our great ci
ty for all that time. But now, I've developed a much more powerful energy which will make your filthy little city obsolete."

  He could see her fuming. Her hatred thrilled him, lifted his spirits. Knowing she was so close to death at his hands made the moment all the sweeter.

  "This creature creates energy almost without limit, much more than Tyra. Once I have perfected long term and portable storage devices for that energy, Tyra will be of no use to Ermoor, and its people will be culled."

  She moved. Much faster than he would have believed. She ducked underneath the scatter gun's muzzle, and his first shot missed her entirely, slamming into the thick glass of the tank. She dove to the side. His second shot clipped her legs and she grunted as a splash of blood painted the smooth floor. He reloaded, fast and smooth, but she'd already rolled to her feet and dived behind a console. Mara hadn't moved. No screaming, no running; she just stood there staring at Pera's blood on the sterile floor.

  "You won't be able to wipe out all of Tyra," Pera said from behind the console, "Ermoor's leaders would never let you get away with it."

  He turned his attention to the Tyran. She never peeked around the console at him. Too clever, this one. Cunning, like an animal, cornered and desperate.

  "Fool," he said, "The Twelve Crowns gave their blessing on this project. They know full well what the fate of Tyra will be."

  Not the whole truth, but she didn't need to know that. There was no reply. Riffolk knew it was only a matter of time; he just needed to press the right buttons. He waited, letting the silence build. Her emotions were high, and silence would only push her further. But he was calm, and they were trapped in his world; he had all the time he needed.

  Pera

  He was waiting behind the secret door. Like he knew they'd be there. Now, held in place by immovable metal arms, she felt like a child who'd been caught exploring the darkness and was about to be punished. If she got the opportunity to move, she'd fight back, hopefully kill him; but in the restraints that held her now, she didn't stand a chance.

  Her first impression of Riffolk was that he was terrifying, but not in a physical way; she could definitely defeat him in a physical fight. What made him terrifying was his composure, and his eyes. He was still and patient, and he moved slowly and only when necessary, like a shadow viper. Pera had almost been bitten by a shadow viper when she was younger; they curled up in corners and against walls, just out of the light of candles, waiting for someone to step near them. They remained motionless for huge periods of time, until just the right moment, and then struck within the blink of an eye.

  She'd found one once, as someone in front of her moved past it in a corridor holding a candle. She stopped nearby, lighting her own candle and simply watching. Fascinated, she edged closer. It didn't move at all. She couldn't quite tell because of the flickering candlelight, but it didn't even look as though it was breathing. Feeling bold but nervous, she edged closer still. A couple steps away from it, she had leaned in a little, moving the candle closer. Then it struck, faster than Pera could think. The candle vibrated in her hand. She dropped it and ran as fast as she could through the darkness. After that she'd been banned from carrying her own candles for a while.

  Looking at Riffolk now, watching her and Mara with a cold and utterly emotionless stare, she felt as though she was edging closer to that deadly viper again. Only this time, she was stuck, and the viper was the one edging closer to her. He asked Mara what she was doing in his lab. The girl was terrified; just as terrified of him as Pera herself. In that moment, she knew that Mara could actually be trusted. Her terror was no act. She didn't answer the question, just stared at the lab's floor, frozen. Pera's fear of him was briefly overtaken by rage, and she spoke for Mara.

  "I'm here to stop you, and so is she."

  He didn't react at all to her voice. Continuing to stare at Mara, he asked her to confirm instead. She gave the slightest of nods, and finally Pera saw a flash of something primal and lethal in his eyes. She knew then that neither of them would make it out of the lab alive.

  Mara

  The last thing she remembered was darkness, and smooth surfaces, and Riffolk. Bright lights bit into her eyelids as her mind slowly cleared. Blinking the last of the darkness away, she opened her eyes and saw another huge laboratory, this one still full of equipment. In the centre of the room, a giant glass cage held something horrible-looking. She couldn't see it clearly, but she saw enough to be terrified.

  Riffolk stood nearby, facing away from her, paying attention to a series of dials and lights. Her mind was still cloudy. A low groan sounded beside her and she almost screamed, but it was Pera waking up. Metal bindings were wrapped around her, and Mara glanced down at herself to see the same restraints keeping her in place.

  Pera squinted, the lights obviously painful for her. Mara realised this was the first time Pera had come into contact with full lighting other than when she pulled the curtains back in her room at the mansion. She was obviously badly effected by the light, but forced her eyes open anyway, taking in as much of the lab as she could.

  The women glanced at each other, and Mara saw that same look of controlled fury in Pera's eyes. Somehow, even in their current situation, it made her feel safe. Protected. She had faith in Pera. She looked again at the glass cage; now that she felt a little safer, taking in her surroundings was easier. The thing inside was massive, made from metal and flesh, and clearly alive. It twitched occasionally, and a low humming vibrated from it, not only in her ears but through the metal holding her still.

  "I'm surprised, Mara."

  Riffolk's voice cut through the humming, colder than Mara had ever heard it.

  "And disappointed. What exactly were you hoping to achieve by coming here?"

  He was staring at her, his bright blue eyes boring holes through to her very soul. She was helpless around him. Even Pera's presence, so comforting only seconds earlier, was totally forgotten under the cold stare of her husband. He owned her; she knew it as well as he did, but knowing didn't help her break his spell. She was his.

  Words eluded her, and she simply stared back at him, terrified. Her lungs shrank and her throat tightened. And he continued to wait, as still and implacable as the metal vice holding her in place. His patience was inhuman. Pera scoffed, breaking Mara's frozen, panicked trance.

  "I'm here to stop you," Pera said, "and so is she."

  Riffolk's gaze never moved from Mara. He didn't even blink. His voice became soft, almost intimate, and Mara's mind conjured the image of a silent, terrible monster waiting to strike from the shadows.

  "Is this true, Mara?"

  She nodded, barely coherent, no longer in control of her body. She would have stayed perfectly in place even if the metal arms weren't holding her there. She would have done anything he said.

  His expression didn't change, didn't budge at all, but something in his eyes whispered rage and death directly to her heart, and she felt a wave of icy cold wash over her body. This man could kill her and wouldn't feel a thing. She knew it suddenly, and with an intense certainty that choked her. She glanced over at Pera again, and Pera looked back.

  The look in the Tyran woman's eyes matched her own, and she knew Pera had felt that awful cold wave too. For the first time, the unshakable confidence and rage in Pera's eyes was replaced by pure fear. They were both utterly at the mercy of a monster.

  Elana

  Hayne's meeting with the Lord Commander took place in the latter's office. Elana, already familiar with the layout, was in place and shrouded in Shadow Magic well before Riffolk showed up. Even without a Kaizuun unsheathed and in hand, a well trained Kaizeluun could make themselves utterly invisible. The Lord Commander leaned with both palms on his desk, waiting. A nondescript man sat nearby, on a small chair against the wall. For the briefest moment, his eyes scanned over her, and his brows creased almost imperceptibly. Neither man spoke.

  She adjusted her stance slowly, making sure she was covered in the natural shadow of the room; the
invisibility spell only worked when used within actual shadows. In daylight the spell was still effective, but turned the user into a blurred dark shape.

  This high up on Symond's massive bookshelf, she'd be safe even if there was no shadow to hide in, but Elana still didn't want to take the risk. Just as she settled silently into place, Riffolk strolled through the heavy doors of the Lord Commander's office, a small group of assistants trailing meekly behind him. The unknown man stood, and the Lord Commander straightened to his full height.

  The men greeted each other somewhat coldly, surprising Elana. The atmosphere in the room was one of thinly-veiled hostility. Hayne's face glowed with confidence and victory, and he looked at the Lord Commander as though he were looking at a defeated enemy. He motioned to his assistants, and one of them scurried forward with an armful of papers, spreading them onto the large desk in front of Symond before scurrying back to stand with his colleagues. The nondescript man sat down again, and the meeting began.

  Pera

  There were no monsters, this whole time; except for him. No human could be this cruel. Her mind raced as she saw the Tyrans working once again at the Wheels, tiny and blurred on the glass panel of Riffolk's invention. She wanted to look away, wanted to deny it, to think that it was an image captured before the Tyrans escaped, but she knew. Somehow, she knew it was real. Her people were slaves once again, after a brief glimpse of freedom.