by D N Meinster
Peransic approached Neanthal as soon as he saw him arrive in the area. His best general was a transparent life form that wielded a chain and sickle but wore too many belts along with them. His pale veneer and empty eyes would have been unnerving to lesser beings. They need not learn of his ill demeanor to be intimidated. It was such aspects that made him the ideal leader for his armies. Well, that and his unending devotion to his commander.
"When do we go after those that escaped?" Peransic asked as he came to Neanthal's side.
"They are of no concern to us," Neanthal said. "It is best they remain out of our way. By the time they even think of coming back here, we will be out of this plane and onto the next."
Peransic nodded. Even if he had doubts, he would never speak them. "So what do we do with those they left behind?"
"How many are there?" Neanthal inquired.
"Close to fifteen hundred," Peransic answered. "It wouldn't be hard to execute all of them."
"The battle with King Aergo is over," Neanthal replied. "We shouldn't waste able bodies if we don't have to."
"Some will remain loyal to the dead king," Peransic spat.
"I know what to do with them," Neanthal said. A door on one of the nearby tan structures swung open, and he passed through the threshold and inspected the inside. The stench of unclean men filled the room. There were guardians, their weapons taken but their green armor remaining. There were soldiers, dressed in blue jackets with sizeable golden buttons. And there were ordinary civilians, plainclothes Kytherans that had taken up arms to aid their king. All of them had been packed together and hardly fed since they were taken prisoner.
Peransic joined Neanthal inside, keeping his hand on his sickle in case one of them was brazen enough to attack.
"They can't hurt me, even if they tried," Neanthal reassured him. Now," he turned his attention to the haggard men. "King Aergo is dead. You have but to accept that and pledge your loyalty to me, and I will let you return to your lives. You." His fiery eyes targeted one of the green-clad men. "Frethin Dray."
Frethin gazed up at the new king, his body trembling. "You know me?"
"I know everyone," Neanthal said, intending for them to see that he was as omniscient as any god. "Will you serve your new king?"
Frethin stood up. "I will serve...King Shine, the rightful king."
Neanthal smirked. This man wanted him to take his life. He was in for quite the surprise. "How unfortunate for you." He turned his back on Frethin, leaving him to stare blankly at the body-length leather coat. It took only a minute before a demibeast burst into the room, dragging along a nearly unconscious woman in its teeth.
Frethin ran over to her as soon as he recognized who she was. "Ciandra!" Her body was bruised, and her white outfit covered in dark smudges. He bent down and took her in his arms. "Please," he whined.
"I do not give second chances," Neanthal iterated, and he pivoted his head toward Peransic.
With a single swoop, Peransic's sickle decapitated the woman while she was still in Frethin's arms. In his other hand, Peransic took his chain and began binding the traumatized guardian.
"You will all follow me," Neanthal announced to the room, "by your choice or by mine. And if it's not by yours." He extended a hand toward Frethin. "Those you care about will suffer."
Neanthal studied the reactions of the prisoners. Only one or two remained defiant. Perhaps they didn't have families that they could lose. The others seemed ready to be compliant.
He bent down and got so close to the face of one of the blue-clad soldiers that his triangular beard scratched up against this man's blond one. "Xander Dowin," Neanthal said the name as it entered his mind. "What is your choice?"
Xander's eyes darted to Frethin before he spoke. "I pledge myself to you, King Neanthal," he said, bowing his head.
"At last, a reasonable Kytheran," Neanthal stated as he returned to his full height. "You may return home until I call upon you."
Xander hesitated, unsure if the new king was being serious.
"Go," Neanthal instructed.
Xander bobbed his head before standing up. He eyed Peransic and the demibeast with suspicion before exiting.
"That one's going to be useful," Neanthal told Peransic. "You see?" He addressed the room. "I only ask one thing of you. Will you not give it?"
He closed in on guardian-after-guardian, attaining their vows before letting them leave. Only the two he suspected refused to join him. Their families were killed before their eyes, and they were taken away in chains. When the room was finally empty, he turned to Peransic. "Death would be too easy for the disloyal. They would only join Magenine. It's slavery for them."
"Who will oversee these slaves?" Peransic asked with glee, expecting it to be him.
"Not you, Peransic," Neanthal replied. "I need you at my side. There are others who can take care of the slaves." He ignored his subordinate's displeasure. "We'll continue with the rest of the prisoners later. I must return to the castle. Keep watch."
"Yes, my King," Peransic replied
Neanthal observed his surroundings immediately transformed into the inelegant stone of Castle Tornis. He was back, not in the Throne Room, but in the High Council chamber. Three stragglers on the council had failed to make it to the Twilight Islands. They had been barred inside the room for the last day, awaiting with trepidation the determination of their fate.
All three were dressed in finely woven robes that had refused to wrinkle even in the hours they'd sat waiting. Neanthal didn't know their names, nor did he care to. A brief flash in front of his eyes, and he knew exactly where King Aergo had sat during their meetings. He took that seat and asked of his company, "Do I need to introduce myself?"
The bravest of them whipped out a knife from beneath her layered robes and flung it straight at Neanthal.
Neanthal reached out and caught the knife before it struck him. "I assume that means no." He tossed it back at the attacker but willed it to stop in midair before it made impact. "Aergo may have convinced you that I am some sort of monster, but I can be merciful." He stood up and walked along the side of the table, towards them. "However, I get the sense I will get none from you." The knife slit the attacker's throat and fell down onto the table. The dying council member covered the wound with her hands as blood poured out from her neck. She gagged and spat as her hands turned red and her face turned purple.
"We know you are a beast," one of the two remaining male councilors spoke.
"Simple minds cannot comprehend what I am," Neanthal replied. "It's amazing you didn't all lose your shit when I spoke of Magenine."
"The Goddess will defeat you!" the other cried out.
"Oh, a true believer," Neanthal commented. "I have no use for that." The councilor's body burst into flames. He jumped up from the chair and ran to the door, which provided the only way out. But it wouldn't budge. He screamed and screamed as the flames devoured him, until he was nothing but a burning carcass.
"I have to say, the loyalty Aergo inspired is remarkable." Neanthal towered over the last surviving councilor. "What made you love him so?"
"The people will never love you," he responded. "They will celebrate your death."
"I'm afraid those waiting for that will be disappointed." Neanthal's sword appeared in his hands and he impaled him before he could loose a clever retort. Both the needle-like blade and the broader one stuck through his mouth and came out the back of his head.
He hadn't been sure he was going to kill all of them. One might have lusted for power enough that they'd easily betray their former loyalties. But these three had remained devoted. What a shame. He didn't really need them, as a god has no need for advisors. Yet he was willing to spare at least one.
"Fools," he murmured as his sword disappeared and he stepped back. There was still one piece of business to take care of in the castle. Neanthal appeared back in the Throne Room as he thought of it. As expected, Uterak was there, along with the three children he had tasked him with fi
nding.
Multiple plated encircled the young mages, only leaving them a clear view of the throne atop the stairs. They remained dressed in their regal cloaks, the two boys in maroon and lime outfits while the one girl wore spirals of red and white. But none of them had their staffs. Had they hidden them in the depths of Castle Tornis?
"What are your names, my children?" Neanthal asked them as he eased back onto his throne.
"We are not your children," the girl rejoined.
"True," Neanthal said, amused by her sassiness. "Your parents are out there, in the kingdom. You were stolen from them." The girl did not have a response for that. "I do not ask for such a terrible price. I will return you to them, if you wish."
The kids looked to one another, taken by surprise by this apparent kindness.
"Your names, please," Neanthal requested again.
"Rayla Tath," the girl said. She was just shy of fifteen, with flat brown hair which she was letting grow out. "You would let us meet our parents?"
"Of course," Neanthal affirmed.
"Urto Grenk," the boy in maroon spoke. He was twelve but had already started to grow stubble above his lips.
"Good to meet you, Urto," Neanthal said with the gentlest smile he could muster.
"I'm Kas Hetos," the other boy stated. He was the oldest of all of them, about seventeen, with yellow eyes that nearly matched his lime attire. "I've been waiting to see them my entire life."
Children were the easiest to manipulate, especially those whose desires were so obvious to detect. That these were all mages made this all the more crucial. They had to want to join him. Their souls would resist no matter what if they didn't.
"I will take you to your parents, personally," Neanthal promised. "All I ask from you is your allegiance. Work with me. Fight alongside the Massku. And you will get more than just your parents back."
"What will we get?" Urto asked, mightily curious.
"Unlimited power," Neanthal relayed, clenching his fingers in front of his face.
"I'm glad Aergo's dead," Kas said, dropping to his knees. "I will serve you, King Neanthal."
The two other children kneeled down as well. "We will serve you," they repeated in unison.
Neanthal rose from his throne. "Then let me in." His body lost its solidity, becoming a delicate black cloud with a silver heart symbol in the middle. Plumes of black smoke shot out from his torso and rammed into the chests of the three children. Their eyes turned solid black and their skin lost its youthful radiance. Neanthal had done this many times before. His own immortal soul was binding to each of the three mage's souls. He would remove the limits that Magenine had placed on them. He would make them more than what they were.
He had done this in the Bastion, with the Ifta. His soul had merged with an entire species. They gained the strength that had been denied to them for their entire existence. He gave them armor which would protect them in the Early War. All were grateful for his gifts and had followed him into battle here.
In Ghumai, he could unshackle the mages. Magenine gave them but a taste of what they truly desired. Neanthal could unleash their power, while the Goddess only held them back. Still, She was within them, and many resisted. These three did not.
None of them cried out as he fundamentally altered them. When the process was complete, Neanthal's normal visage returned and he took a seat on his throne. The three children remained on their knees. "You are mine now, Rayla, Urto, and Kas."
They all stared at him with their black eyes. Although none spoke, he could feel their angst. One was even feeling a tinge of regret. It was still early. If they chose to reject him, the bond might not hold. He would need to give them what he promised. And he would need to get them staffs. These three were going to be even more important than the two mages he had already recruited. "I will take care of you," he vowed.
Chapter Twelve
Reprimand
Doren thrust his shield forward but dropped it as soon as he realized it was about to hit Aros. He could've sworn Lodmac was there right before he started the attack.
He spun around, searching for the Director, but only Rikki was behind him. As he focused on his surroundings, he saw that they weren't in the hallway anymore either. They were all in an empty room reminiscent of their first stay in the hospital. "What just happened?"
Aros returned his blades to his back and whined, "I don't like this place."
"Time manipulation," Rikki grumbled. "They froze us and brought us here."
"Whoa." Doren picked up his shield and slid it onto his back. At least there were no clones or chrome men around them. They could take a moment and digest what they had been through. "Do you think M'dalla saved Yuurei?"
"She's not here, so that's a good sign, right?" Aros said.
Doren nodded. Maybe they had actually managed to accomplish something before being frozen. That had to be the weirdest thing about this stasis technology. They had frozen them, and Doren hadn't even known it until they had unfrozen him. Did Hatswick know he was stuck in their stasis field? He was a mage. He might be able to perceive it differently. "Could you tell what they did to you?" he asked Rikki.
"No, I don't think so," she responded.
"We should leave before they do it again," Aros urged. He eyed Rikki.
"I can shift us out of here," she stated before holding out her staff for her friends.
Doren tightened his fingers around the staff and gazed into her eyes. He felt all the more vulnerable after being entrapped by the Bellish and feared they could be running out of time to have the talk that they needed to.
Her lips curved upward as she stared right back at him.
"You three are causing too much trouble," an exasperated voice conveyed before Aros had touched the staff.
The three of them looked to the nearest wall, which was no longer decorated with dreary white but instead lit up to display the enlarged face of Versil Talap. His enhanced size was intimidating, as was his peeved expression.
"We only wanted the Key," Rikki said, turning her staff so it was out of reach of her friends and pointed at him.
"No," Versil replied. "You wanted to save this Yuurei as well. That's why you're in your present location, is it not?"
"Did we?" Doren asked, hopeful that they had been able to do that much.
"You were too late," Versil answered. "We can't keep the infected around too long or the outcome has the potential to be catastrophic."
"Barbaric," Aros muttered.
"Excuse me? Are you judging us? You three come from some backwater kingdom that hasn't had any technological advances in hundreds of years, and yet you label us like you are somehow superior?" Versil's magnified eyes fell on Doren. "It's beyond indecent of you. It's pathetic."
Doren felt a deep need to defend his friend and his kingdom from the verbal assault. "Kytheras has gotten on fine without you. We don't need you to stop Neanthal. We only need your Key, which is Kytheran property, by the way."
"You might have noticed that Neanthal is not our principal concern," Versil replied.
"Then you shouldn't have a problem turning your Key over to us," Rikki stated.
"He's our principal concern," Aros announced, poking a finger into his chest.
"We could leave now if you would accommodate us," Doren said.
Versil's smirk was chilling. "You're right. I could turn over our Key and be done with it. But from what I've seen of you, I do not trust you to keep us safe from Neanthal. Does it look like I have the resources to expend if the number of threats to our city doubles?"
"Yes?" Aros tepidly answered.
Versil's face fell and Aros took the brunt of his antagonistic stare. "Ignorant foreigners. You will not get our Key. You will not get anything from us. I know failures when I see them. I've been able to call 'em for so long, it's second nature to me. You can't get the Key without begging. You couldn't save Yuurei. Meanwhile, we've kept the Key safe for three hundred years. Go home, children. The Bellish can take care
of all of this themselves."
Versil should've been glad he wasn't physically in the same room as them, because Doren was sure he would've been the subject of a beatdown he wouldn't have seen coming. He and his friends had tensed up while they made to suppress their mounting fury.
Rikki tried to remain polite when she spoke again, but the insults had clearly gotten to her. "I am a mage. I can help you with the MR. All I ask for in return is the Key."
Versil seemed to lean in closer to her. "Tell me, mage. What do you know of molecular biology? How about virology? Can you even tell me what those words mean? The MR is more than just magic. And I can tell that it's beyond you."
Rikki was evidently struck by Versil's words, as her mouth hung agape and her staff wilted in her arm. But Ji-Ji was even more so, as he dropped from Rikki's back and charged at the image of Versil. Yet the Director gave no attention to the denhare scratching at the wall that projected his face.
Doren's fingers grazed his shield as he prepared to mimic Rikki's pet. How many insults did he think he could throw at them before they reacted?
"You're right," Aros spoke up.
Both Rikki and Doren twisted toward him aghast.
But he continued. "We don't know those words. We don't know what clones are or DNA. We would appreciate an explanation. And then we will let you be."
Versil was impressed with Aros' words. "Yes, you are all simple dullards, aren't you? I get no pleasure from proving my intelligence to those who already know they are less intelligent than myself. But I take you at your word when you say you will let me be. I cannot be interrupted anymore in this time of crisis."
Doren wasn't sure what Aros was doing, but it didn't hurt to go along. "You will not hear from us again."
"These are terms I can accept." Versil clapped his hands together a few times. "What would you like to know? Be quick about it. I will not waste a day trying to explain all of Belliore to you."
