“Some of his gear is soul bound,” Saibra explained when I inquired about the strange circumstance. “If it gets too far from him, it may return to him on its own, but as long as it’s in his pack and close by, the magic will not trigger. It’s still in his possession, or at least it thinks it is. Unless he’s truly dead or gives it away willingly, this is all we can do.”
It was an interesting loophole, or at least a work-around to the properties of soul bound items, something that the people of this world had probably been forced to learn after many painful lessons. With my question answered, I walked slowly towards the Deathless and spoke once I stood over him.
“You and I are going to talk,” I said with complete disinterest. “But only after we’re finished with today’s march. Well, at least I’ll be marching—you’re just going for a very long drag.”
Then I left, turning quickly on my heel and leaving him to sit there helplessly as my soldiers bound him up tightly. He would be tied behind one of the wagons and hauled behind it the entire day, slowly ripped to shreds as the ground wore away at him over the many miles we traveled. One of our Curates would be beside him the whole time, healing him as needed to prevent him from escaping my wrath with the comparatively easy death that the road offered. I had much more planned for this Deathless—he would not get away quite so mercifully after nearly taking Venna from me.
There had been some objections to my plan, but once I revealed that this Deathless was an agent of the Dark Lands, those objections had been silenced. No one held any regard for the Deathless who served the forces of evil and knowing what this particular Deathless had almost done only made things all the worse for him. I had no real proof of my accusation, but in my mind, I was certain of it.
Shortly after our march began, I gathered my Tári together for a meeting in the privacy of my carriage. The attack the night before had been aimed at one of them, intentionally, and we needed to consider very carefully just what that meant. I began by revealing what Nentai had told me about the hidden power in the Dark Lands and how it had likely been watching me. From there, it was no small jump to conclude that it had seen them too and made the connection between us, even if it hadn’t quite recognized the full significance of its discovery.
Their importance to me had made each of them a potential target of our unseen enemy; a danger we couldn’t afford to ignore. The fact that we’d been unaware of the risk had almost cost Venna her life, and we needed to be prepared for the next attack. We didn’t bother even considering that foiling this attempt had ended the threat. Another was almost certain to follow, and it was very likely that it would come from a Deathless as well. Our defenses needed to account for the tremendous power that came with that status.
The soft metallic clink of one of the links of Thassa’s Armor of Light connecting itself back together echoed in the silence, reminding me of the sheer power of the Deathless who’d almost taken Venna’s life. The fact that he’d torn through her God-forged armor with ease had not been lost on any of us.
Unfortunately, power like mine could be almost impossible to stop. We’d been fortunate that the Deathless had surrendered, apparently believing that he would be quickly executed for his crimes, only to resurrect and escape true justice. But Venna had recognized the source of his strength, and he would not be lucky enough to escape me that way.
“How many different ways could you kill one of us, Dreya?” Venna asked as we contemplated how to defend ourselves. “Could we even stop you if you really wanted us dead?”
I leaned back in my chair as the meaning behind her question hit me. There were many, many ways I could take any one of their lives, and with the large discrepancy in our power, there was absolutely nothing they could do to stop me. I’d taken out an entire army, albeit only when my darkness had completely overtaken me, but still, her point had been made. Individually, none of them stood much chance against one of the Deathless. Perhaps Saibra might be an exception to that if the Deathless only fought her with weapons and not magic, but that wasn’t a circumstance I wanted to rely on.
There really was only one option—numbers. Each of them needed to be surrounded by a large enough troop of guards to dissuade or fend off any attack, even one made by a Deathless. The one who’d attacked Venna had killed seven and wounded even more. Devoting over a dozen guards to each of them would be no small matter and would certainly not pass unnoticed. The next question was then obvious: how do we explain the increased security for my Tári? Do we dare break from our secrecy?
My recent issues with Stel screamed at me that discretion was still required and that the world was not ready for who I was. Ella argued otherwise—she had no qualms about any of it and cared nothing for the opinions of others. Saibra and Venna both held their tongues, each for their own reasons, while Líann objected strongly.
“It’s far too soon for that,” she counseled. “One of us, maybe, but not all four. No one would object openly, of course, but you’d soon find your support melting away. The previous King of Earmont tried to make a second wife of his mistress, and that’s exactly how he became the previous King. The moral lines of our world may seem arbitrary to you, but they are very bright lines indeed.”
Real encouraging, Líann.
Still, I knew that she was right. Discreet affairs were one thing, but declaring myself and my Tári openly was something this world was simply not ready for yet. I couldn’t afford to lose the support of my people—we needed them behind us if we were to banish the evils of the Dark Lands and defeat the cruel vermin that preyed upon the innocents. I could wait until then to reveal myself. Once peace had been achieved, my purpose would have been accomplished, and I’d be free of my burdens, or so I hoped.
“Don’t protect us, Dreya,” Saibra finally spoke up. “Or, I should say, don’t protect only us. Extend the same precautions to all your Ministers and order the First Marshal to surround himself with a troop of soldiers as well. Ella and I will be part of your detail often enough, and we can see that we are safe when we are not.”
It should have been the obvious solution, but we’d overlooked it until then. No one but us and our unknown enemy knew why Venna had been targeted, so responding by increasing the security around all my key personnel would not raise suspicions. I would need to increase the number of Ministry guards in my employ substantially, but that was of little concern to me. As long as my Tári were safe, that was all that mattered.
“I can pull some extra guards from the troops until we get back home,” Ella volunteered. “That will help me cover everyone for now.”
“Do it,” I ordered. “But make sure to grab a few Evokers as well.”
None of us needed to be reminded of the fact that magic had been the only thing to halt Insleí’s slaughter of my own guards.
With that, the special meeting of my ‘security council’ was over. Ella would see to the new arrangements and inform the rest of my Ministers of what we’d decided. I couldn’t resist hugging each of them as they left, and only Saibra hesitated to return my embrace, but I held on to her tightly until she finally did, only letting her go once she’d returned my gesture of affection.
After departing from my carriage, I wandered ahead to check on the condition of our Deathless prisoner. We’d traveled several long miles, and I was curious to see what sort of state he was in. But when I arrived beside the wagon that was supposed to be dragging him along, I found him propped up in its bed instead, battered and bloody, yet still very much alive.
“I’m sorry, Empress,” the Curate I’d charged with overseeing the prisoner apologized profusely. “His injuries became too severe for me to counter, and I was forced to halt his punishment, lest he pass beyond my power to heal.”
“It’s not your fault, Curate,” I offered the priest. “Leave him there for now. I’ll just have to be more creative tomorrow.”
The Deathless glared at me through his one open eye. The other was still swollen shut from the impact of some rock or other ob
ject his face had struck along the way. But my words had their intended effect—the bastard knew that he’d not escaped and would be facing some new form of justice the following day.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I spoke to him sweetly. “You won’t have to wait until morning for what comes next; we’re still going to have our little talk tonight. I promise that you’ll get everything you deserve then.”
I traced a finger across his bloody cheek as I spoke, letting a thin tendril of my darkness filter into him as I did. Under my guidance, the shadowy thread wrapped around his jaw, winding in tight circles before I snapped the thread sharply and shattered his jawbone into dozens of shards. The Deathless’ eyes rolled back in his head as the pain flooded his senses, but the muffled cry of pain that escaped from his badly mangled face was like music to my ears. I cared nothing for his suffering—only the innocent deserved such courtesies, and he was far from innocent.
“See that he is healed and ready to answer my questions when we make camp,” I called to the Curate over my shoulder as I left the Deathless to his misery.
“You are quite unique, Empress,” Saibra noted as we retook our place among the long line of marching soldiers. “Few have the stomach to dish out the kind of punishments you seem to enjoy, yet you save such things only for those who truly deserve them.”
She wasn’t wrong in her observation. I did indeed find some satisfaction in visiting pain on those who tormented others, but that was as far as it went. My desire to cause harm was limited to my need to vent my anger only on those who’d earned its fury. Vengeance, not torture, was my true calling, just as it was my mother’s.
“Taking advantage of the weak or slaughtering innocents does not appeal to me, Saibra,” I replied to her. “The joy I take in exacting vengeance is not for the sake of inflicting pain; it is the fact that I am able to deal out justice that brings me true satisfaction.”
And that was the honest truth—for me, justice required some measure of inflicting equal suffering upon the perpetrators of true evil. After committing such horrendous acts, escaping with only a quick, painless death was like no punishment at all in my mind. True justice required an eye for an eye, to borrow a phrase from the dead man’s world. Without a sentence equal to the crime, the scales of justice would fail to balance—the evil inflicted on the world would outweigh the good, and I simply could not abide that. I was more than willing to put my finger on that scale to balance things out.
“Having been on both sides of that equation, I can see the truth in your words,” Saibra responded quite bluntly.
“You’ve been surprisingly open with us,” she continued after only a short pause. “So, I’m curious why you lied about how you came to this world. You told us Nentai’s role in your transition, but you also left out a great deal.”
I should’ve known that Saibra would see through my deception… well, my omission. But I’d left those things unsaid for a reason, and I felt completely entitled to keep at least a few secrets of my own.
“The tale of my life before this world is mine to keep, Saibra,” I answered her calmly. Her question had been a probing but honest one, and I didn’t want her to think I was upset with her for asking. “Just know that there’s nothing about it that affects anything I do here.”
Wasn’t that the truth? I literally had no life before this world.
Saibra only nodded in response, a habit of hers I recognized when she knew that one of our conversations was at an end.
“We’ll talk more later,” I poked her just a little. “Tonight.”
Just bringing up the night she’d be spending with me unnerved her, though I doubt anyone else would have noticed. But the quick flash of fear in her eyes and the near misstep in her fluid gait brought a smile to my face—one Saibra didn’t miss.
“I know that you do these things to me on purpose,” she expressed her frustration with me honestly. “Yet I still react to them; I don’t understand.”
“Strong emotions can have that effect, Saibra,” I replied, dropping my attempts to toy with her and answering her question more seriously. “Even more so because of how inexperienced you are in dealing with them. Once you become more comfortable with them and me, I’ll have to work much harder to unsettle you.”
Saibra glanced at me sideways with my last comment, but she recognized its playful nature.
“Perhaps this would be a good subject for us to discuss this evening,” I couldn’t resist adding.
To her credit, Saibra kept herself in check and only stared ahead as I spoke, never even acknowledging my words as we walked onwards. She was going to be a very difficult challenge for me. I was more than certain that bringing her out of her shell would take quite some time. Yet somehow, I knew that the effort would be worth it. There was something special about this reforged woman; something beyond her hardened exterior and checkered past. While I had no idea what that might be, I was thoroughly intrigued by the prospect of uncovering her mysteries.
It grew late soon enough, and the Army came to a halt for the night. Instead of my usual tour around camp, Ella came for me and brought me to a special tent that had been erected. Inside, the Deathless prisoner was once again tied to a pole in the ground, completely healed from his injuries and waiting for my tender mercies. I cast See Truth on him as I entered the tent and dismissed the guards. While I was perfectly comfortable with what I was about to do, I knew that my methods made some of them uneasy. So, rather than make any of the guards uncomfortable, I let them all wait for me outside. Then, without preamble, I cast Compel and began my questioning.
“Who sent you?”
With both See Truth and Compel working on the Deathless, I was sure that I’d get the answer I needed, but his response left me speechless.
The chain of dark metal links around his neck pulsed with a shadowy aura and his eyes glared at me for just a second before turning black as night, whites and all. His mouth opened and he began to speak, but the voice that came from him rang hollow, sounding as if it were only an echo from another.
“You cannot force this one’s answer, green-eyed witch,” he intoned vacantly. “He is protected by a power far greater than your own.”
I stared at him just as blankly as he stared at me, until his eyes rolled back, clearing the blackness from them as the dark aura retreated to within the cold metal links around his neck.
“Why did you attack Venna?” I tried a different approach once his protective shield was gone.
Without the darkness projecting itself again, his eyes rolled black once more, but he only remained silent, staring at me with a flat, almost absent expression.
“Who the fuck are you?” I shouted in my frustration.
His eyes flashed back to life, and the magic of Compel finally took hold as he answered me.
“Tom Westman back home, but my name here is Zedd.”
“What the fuck did you do to me?” Zedd jerked back in shock as my Spell forced the answer from him.
He was obviously unaware of the two prior questions I’d asked; whatever magic was at work, he seemed to know nothing about it. It had prevented me from getting any answers about who had sent him after Venna, or even why, obviously concealing only his master’s identity. But the magic seemed to offer Zedd himself no protection at all—when my question turned to the matter of his own name, the dark aura had failed him.
“What level are you?” I asked after casting Compel once more.
“Forty-eight,” he offered willingly.
“Fuck!” Zedd shouted in outrage.
“What class?”
“Shadow,” he responded to Compel once more.
“What the hell?!”
“I own you, Zedd,” I taunted him. “Get used to that fact. You cannot resist me.”
The guards who’d searched him had left only his soul bound equipment in the pack that was staked beside Zedd, and I let him simmer in his frustration as I inspected the gear.
Inside the pack was a set of leather armo
r, obviously high-quality and heavily enchanted, even though I couldn’t divine its precise nature. There was also a very finely crafted short sword, but again, my inspection revealed nothing of its properties.
“Zedd, it would be very good for your health if you gave these to me,” I said to him sweetly as I sat down beside him.
Since they were soul bound to the despicable piece of shit, I couldn’t simply take them from him, and as a Deathless, killing him wouldn’t work either. He’d have to give them over voluntarily if I was to gain them for my own purposes.
“I’m not giving you shit,” Zedd spat.
“That makes me very unhappy, Zedd.”
To highlight my dissatisfaction, I cast Entangle and then Life Drain on him, sucking away his life’s energy slowly as he screamed in agony. I had no idea the Spell would be so painful, so I cut off its flow before it taxed him too badly. I needed to keep Zedd alive to prevent him from escaping me via death, and I was nowhere near finished with him.
When he recovered, I used him as a training dummy for a while, assuming that since he was a living target and most definitely hostile, it would allow my efforts to improve their proficiencies. So, I practiced a few of my talents, both new and old on his Deathless body, occasionally stopping to ask him any questions as they occurred to me. Sometimes, the chain of links around his neck would prevent him from answering, but as I learned the limits of its power, more and more of my inquiries received responses. Anything about Zedd was fair game; apparently, his master seemed to care nothing for him. But whenever my queries strayed towards matters that might reveal who was pulling Zedd’s strings, his eyes rolled black again and I got nothing.
Still, as I left his unconscious body behind I had learned much. He was not the only Deathless his master commanded, that much I’d managed to wring from him. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how many more there were; only that he was not alone. I knew his class and level, and even some of his Skills, for all the good it did me. But it vexed me to no end to know that his master still remained hidden, as did the reason behind the attack on Venna.
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