by T J Marquis
Kash released his tension. He did prefer to have warm bodies in place rather than spells, for spells could be broken or falsely triggered. He could not refuse Ugrata, however, and she knew this. She was worth more to him than a thousand mistresses, perhaps even more than his rule of the Underlands or the notion of conquest.
"Yes, love," she said as he relaxed. "It was a good day, but even you must rest. Think not of it as being a slackard." How well she knew him. "It is an investment in tomorrow's performance, it's efficacy."
She was right, of course. He was mighty, but mortal. Deep sleep, and the love of his wife, would help to ensure he met the next day with alertness, with verve, with wisdom.
"You tell me to rest," he said, reaching around to the small of her back, "yet you quicken my blood with your touch and scent." She smiled coyly. "Come, let us retire a little early, then. We can sneak down to the kitchens for a late snack when the cooks have gone to bed."
She laughed at the childish notion but said, "You will need more than a snack, darling."
"Ha!" he boomed. "Prime me for a feast then, my beauty!"
Kash swept her up into his arms and began to carry her toward their chambers, which were secreted down a number of halls beyond the throne room.
Yes, Ugrata was right. This was the perfect way to end a very good day.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Tale of Flaila
"Is there anything we should be looking for on the way?" Pierce asked Sev as they travelled the old road. "Materials for your enchantment?"
Sev shrugged. "I'll need a good bit of silicon, but that should be easy to come by, no?"
Pierce gave him a blank look.
"If you get me a quiet space, I can synthesize the crystals I need to distill the blue enchantment," Sev said. He put a thick finger to his lips. "Your wizard friend will probably need more than a bottle of dust to do the job, so he'll have to find me a place to store it all."
"You'll have to ask Ess about silicon," said Pierce, "I wouldn't know where on earth to find it. But I won't mind doing the legwork."
The tiny army rode south, making for the edge of Overland. Ess had said there would be road most of the way there. They wouldn't have to travel over open country until after passing through a town called Shiv. From there, it would be a march of a few more days before they reached Chasmverge, the First's grand tower.
Everyone was on edge, and trying not to show it. They might meet anything along the way. Towns that would once have been pleasant way-stops on a journey might now be hives of evil. There could be roving bands of troops or monsters from the Underlands, fanning out from any number of camps or fortresses. There was no way to know what to expect before it was upon them.
Pierce had settled into the rhythm of travel, and was watching the red sun crawl westward, when Ess floated up alongside him.
"Hey Ess," he said casually. It took all his might to stay calm. Even through all those robes, he could feel her nearness, and it quickened his blood.
"Pierce," she greeted. She said nothing more for quite a while, and Pierce began to fidget. A smile crept onto Ess's lips.
"Do I really make you that uncomfortable?" she asked playfully.
"Yes, um, no ma'am. Not uncomfortable, no. It's just... I had a lot of girl cousins, so it's not that I'm not used to girls, or, women..."
Ess laughed.
"But you're... different," Pierce said.
"Am I?" Ess glanced over at him. "How so?"
Pierce knew she was playing with him, but this felt more like a sparring match. Would he say the right thing? Was it possible to do so? He could skirt the matter, or drive in for a direct strike.
"Well I've never seen a gen woman up close, for one," he said.
"Supra-gen, to be precise," she corrected. "Normal gen are grey of skin. Does my race confuse your sense of attraction?"
Pierce felt the hit. He'd skirted, staying out of range, but she'd leapt in for a direct strike. If he disengaged, it could all be over. He went bold.
"No, Ess. You're beautiful. I'm sure you know that."
Her eyes widened in surprise and her smile grew. "Why thank you, Pierce."
"It's true. I've never seen anyone like you."
"Well if the only girls you know are your cousins," said Ess, "I should think not."
Pierce laughed. "That's not what I meant."
"Where are they? Your family?" Ess asked. Pierce's spirit dampened a little, and he forgot about flirting.
"Down in the Underlands, actually," he said.
"Really?" Ess mused. "Defectors to subterra are not common."
"Yeah. Well we lived out in west Konta."
"On the border of Alba, yes?" Ess said, "I know it."
"Apparently, after the wars, our duke went a little mad. Around the time I was born, he started taxing the farmers like crazy. When I'd grown, Dad finally had enough, said he heard things were better for people down below, and the whole clan packed up to leave."
"And you wouldn't go?"
Pierce shook his head. "Never. If I can't even sit still for a tutor, how am I supposed to survive as a subject of the Underlord?"
"They do say Kash has a fair hand," Ess said. "But I understand. Were they angry with you?"
"Disowned me," Pierce said. "Dad wanted my help setting up a farm. Thought we'd raise raptorions. I refused to go, so he said he never wanted to see me again. Mom and Gauntlet didn't agree of course, but it's hard to go against Father."
"I'm sorry, Pierce," Ess said.
"Thanks, Ess. But it's okay. I have to stick to what I believe is right, don't I?"
"I find that is often the best course of action."
Pierce often wondered if he were destined for the Glorious Paths. He really hadn't studied very... studiously. Did his natural sense of justice match the teachings of his professed religion?
He tried to imagine precisely what Ess believed, with all her vast knowledge. She seemed to be in favor of saving the people of Overland at any rate, so that was a good sign.
"What do you believe is right?" Ess asked.
"To sharpen my blade," he said immediately. "To find my place in Overland and bring justice where it's needed."
"Noble, to be sure."
"Isn't that what Gorgonbane's about?" Pierce asked. "From the tales, it always sounded that way."
"It became that, in time," Ess said. "But I must confess, at the start, the five of us did seek glory, and riches. We wanted to be Lords and Ladies of Overland."
"Wait, five?" Pierce said, puzzled.
"Tales of Flaila are not easy to come by," said Ess, "for she was not with us long. Would you like to hear one?"
"Dearly," said Pierce. He watched Ess speak with rapt attention.
"Flaila of Chasmreach was as strong as she was beautiful. She did not share the yellow eyes of her sister, but instead greeted the world with a gaze of bright green."
"Scythia's sister?" Pierce asked.
"Yes. Besides this, you would be hard pressed to tell them apart from a distance, though Flaila was the younger.
"She had struck out for Grondell and Arena a year after Scythia's departure from home, following in her sister's footsteps. It was at Arena, during a tournament in which Flaila had prevailed resoundingly, that we found both her and Scythia in the first place. Axebourne and Agrathor were both taken with them immediately."
"Back when he had skin."
"Back when Agrathor was enfleshed, and Axebourne was a little prettier, yes. Besides my comrades' attractions, I saw great reason to recruit the two. Of course you know of Scythia's aptitude in gemcraft, but Flaila was a master of all weapons. She could do things with them that you wouldn't believe, though she had little magic in her. Naturally the boys were quick to take up my nomination of the two, and the girls were pleased to accept. We departed Arena to look for work.
"Which we found, in Konta, actually. An archduke whose name I cannot remember hired us to train his men and bolster the Ijan defenses against a
n expected siege by the Albans."
"Ironok," Pierce said, grinning at having remembered an old lesson. "He used to rule Ija, before his own subjects beheaded him during the Alban wars."
"Very good, my pupil," Ess laughed. "So you see that Gorgonbane did not always serve justice unswervingly."
"And you hadn't been given a name yet. I was just telling Sev about the gorgon plague."
Ess shook her head. "Dark times indeed. So, we did the job, training Ironok's men for a full two years before the siege finally came. In that time, Scythia and Axebourne's love had grown, and promised to flower. We all knew they would be married at the earliest opportunity. Agrathor likewise had fallen into Flaila's arms."
Pierce could already see the implications of this.
"I remember doing my katas under the light of the moon, and looking up to see the two of them on the ramparts, seemingly sleepless, keeping watch and talking about everything under the sun. You could see the green of Flaila's eyes from a hundred yards away, and Agrathor had the most winsome smile."
Ess looked up suddenly toward the rest of Gorgonbane, riding ahead of them. She squinted ever so slightly, and Pierce watched the tiny rise of her cheek. She wore a faint smile, as if remembering the Agrathor of old.
"Sometimes I think that if I could go back to those days, I would. This passion for my craft can be such a... burden," Ess said, and was silent for a long time. Pierce thought about Gorgonbane before their name had even been imagined, and he did not fidget as he waited.
Ess continued at last, "An Alban general named Bellows was the one that finally challenged the city of Ija. He led five battalions of mounted knights clad in the best armor the Alban forges could produce. Yet he claimed that he wished to cause the city no great distress, and was very forthcoming with the notion that he desired possession of the city, but in one piece. He offered up a deal - a contest of champions. If his champion won, we would relinquish control of the city. If our champion prevailed, the Alban army would hold their camp at peace for thirty days, then repeat the challenge, promising not to hinder the coming and going of the Ijans. We never got to learn whether he was a man of his word.
"Naturally we chose Flaila as our champion. After all, she had bested every warrior in Overland's Arena - who better to represent us?"
"Oh no," said Pierce. "She didn't win?"
Ess gave a sly smile. "Have I said that? The sun was bright and pulsing that day, and you could see the heat rising from the rocky flats outside the Ijan ramparts. Our longbowmen lined the top of the walls, watching for treachery. Flaila met the Alban champion in the field, taking with her a single squire loaded with weapons. The Alban champion was another Westerling, a very large man entirely encased in shining armor. Whenever he bellowed, the sound carried the muted resonance of his stylish helm.
"But Flaila did not flinch before his taunts and simple insults. She merely waited, and asked his choice of weapon. In an amusing coincidence, he chose Flaila's namesake. It wasn't his final mistake, but it would number among the last of them.
"I'll never forget the match, however short it was. Flaila chose her flail and provided the Alban with one. His squire inspected it and found it acceptable. They squared off against each other, and General Bellows signaled for them to begin.
"Flaila let the Alban test the weight and balance of his weapon, let him show off what skill he thought he had. Her only taunt was to beckon him nearer. He laughed and flicked out the spiked end of the flail as if to tease her. It was during one of these foolish taunts that she caught his chain in hers and pulled him close.
"Flaila planted a fist in the man's faceplate, denting it inward with an audible crunch. I would swear the woman was made of iron. She let the Alban fall back, disentangling the chains of the flails. He was forced to retract the faceplate, and his nose bled profusely. Agrathor laughed at him from my side. I couldn't see his eyes from the ramparts, but the Alban's tense bearing said he now knew this fight was no joke. There were no more flashy maneuvers of his flail.
"Flaila and the Alban traded a number of feints and strikes, though I believe she could have ended him any second. She blocked an overhead swing, then flicked the spiked ball down low and into the Alban's greaves. So great was her strength that the metal caved inward. The Alban began to limp. He circled Flaila, slyly trying to get in range of his squire. I saw the squire ready a spear inconspicuously, but so did Flaila.
"When the Alban spun away from her to accept the spear - dishonorably, I might add - Flaila flung her weapon at him, spiked ball tumbling end over end. The handle of the flail struck the Alban's helm in just the right place, and the chain curled around the curve of his skull. The spiked ball lodged in his face, and he fell to the ground, dead."
Pierce imagined it - an impressive feat to behold.
"The battlefield was shocked, and our men cheered, a deafening roar. General Bellows ordered his men to fall back, and they obeyed, with many an irate glance back toward the city."
"So he was a man of his word," Pierce said. "He did what he'd said."
"For the afternoon, yes," Ess said. "It was the nighttime that brought us treachery. We had been furnished with little apartments in an annex to the barracks. Agrathor was asleep in his room, and never forgave himself for not standing watch. It wasn't something we had been in the habit of doing, so why would he this night?
"Sometime, in the deepest hours of the night, a spy or mage must have gained access to Flaila's room. In a most heinous and disgusting display of dishonor, they poured a powerful poison down Flaila's throat. It probably took effect within seconds. She would have foamed at the mouth, convulsing, waking from a well-deserved slumber to the horror of her own murder. By the time the sun had crawled up out of the east, she had been dead for hours."
Ess went quiet again, looking up toward Agrathor, further down the road.
"Agrathor had long since learned to harness the lightning in his soul, but his rage and mourning brewed up a storm that he could not contain. The Alban battalions were slain before the smells of breakfast had even begun to waft out of the kitchens, and the siege was ended, just like that. I would have counseled him to take General Bellows prisoner at least, but Agrathor electrocuted every last one of the besiegers, with no regard to station."
"He doesn't talk about Flaila," Pierce said. "Too much pain, I guess."
"He does not often talk about losing his flesh either," Ess pointed out. "Even though he will not admit it."
"So Scythia took up the flail," Pierce realized.
"The very one that her sister used to slay the Alban champion. It is her memorial, enchanted against decay."
"And that was your first mission together," Pierce said. It was a wonder they had kept their wits after such a devastating loss.
"Of course we did odd jobs in the years leading up to the siege," said Ess, "but yes. Officially that was our first big job. And the beginning of a real sense of honor among us. If that was how the world treated such a diligent and talented champion, we had to be better. We resolved to be the best version of ourselves that day."
Pierce glanced up at the sun, feeling the heat of that cursed day outside the city of Ija. Not just Agrathor's, but Scythia's heart had been cut out. It was one thing to be disowned by family - at least Pierce knew they were still alive and safe. Loss to treachery, poison of all things - and to death - he could only imagine the devastation.
Belatedly Pierce realized his sparring with Ess had ended with the mention of his family and the telling of Flaila's tale. Had she thought to dampen his spirits on purpose? Or had it been a natural course of conversation... He was preparing himself to re-engage when Scythia called back to Ess from up ahead. She glanced down at him with a smile and floated off toward the others.
Next time, Pierce thought.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Warnings
Ess caught up to Scythia, Flaila's tale still playing in her head.
All those years ago, and now so fresh in mind. The mem
ory was a wonderous thing.
"Ess, we ask a favor of you," Scythia said. It was peculiar, almost eerie, how the woman's eyes recalled her sister. A dash of blue upon that yellow, and do not dampen the brightness, and they would be Flaila's own emeralds.
"What can I do?" Ess said.
"Axebourne asks if you'll fold back to Cypha. He wants to make sure the town's been warned, and that Sugar has an evacuation plan for her family."
Axebourne looked at her expectantly.
"I can do that," said Ess.
"And Agrathor wants you to warn Deathgripz while you're at it."
Agrathor turned away. Ess thought he'd be blushing if he had skin.
Ess smiled. "I can do that too. Shall I bear a flower he has picked, just for her?"
Agrathor made his growling sound and Ess chuckled.
"Do not fret, old friend," she said. "I merely jest. Anything else?"
"Blacksmith forge you well," said Scythia.
"Stay tempered," Ess replied.
She focused inward, felt the pull to the north, and collapsed into an endless tunnel.
Here the world was dark. In the space between spaces, there was no red crawling sun, nor a sliding silver moon. Ess had never known where the light to see came from, but see she could. There was a surreal representation of Overland stretching before and behind her. Below, at a distance, lay the Underlands. She could see all the way to the Chasm, and just a little beyond. Above lay only blackness.
How surprised the common person would be at how much coming and going there really was in this ethereal realm. Only with mastery did this vision come. Ess saw Kash's green light as he traveled from Testadel to his palace. Amber streaks of displaced Grondellian mages arced over the continent as they no doubt went about warning various peoples of the coming trouble. Clouds of banshees swirled over the depthless Chasm.
Over and through it all, cryptic Intention Signals criss-crossed the void, thousands of gleaming threads like spider silk. Some merely stretched from one house to another. Others were strung between towns or cities. Many strained upward, in search of the Glorious Paths. From Kash's peculiar aura they spread like roots, reaching in every direction. Ess knew that she would have to address his ambition shortly.
