“The dryad! The one who let you surrender instead of killing you outright,” Farris explained quickly, glowering at him. “She’s the dungeon, somehow. Doesn’t talk much, but she’s frighteningly intelligent.”
The information struck Jared like a bolt of lightning. He’d known who Sistina was, from his talk with Topaz, but that she was the dungeon was something new, and the thought sent chills down his spine. It meant that he’d vastly underestimated her.
“What’s her relationship with Princess Phynis? Why is the dungeon helping you?” he demanded a moment later, trying to stay focused.
“Phynis was altered by you assholes to fall in love with her owner, and when Sistina claimed her brand, guess what happened?” Farris spat, anger surging in her voice. “As to why she’s helping us? I don’t know, but she has some kind of relationship with the Constella family. She was the tomb guardian of one of their ancestors, pre-dating the Godsrage.”
That was another shock, and he swallowed, thinking quickly before he asked a last question. “Does Sistina know how to break the brands?”
“Not that I know of. But there’s a library from ancient times down here, and we’re researching the subject. There’ve been some breakthroughs,” Farris replied, scowling. “Why are you so focused on this?”
“Thank you, Farris. I’m sorry,” Jared replied, cringing as his orders sprang to full strength. With a single slice, he cut the elven mage’s throat, and before the two soldiers could react, he plunged it into Farris’ chest.
“Sir! What are you doing? You said that we weren’t going to hurt her!” Hunter protested, letting go of Farris as he recovered the blade.
“Sorry, Hunter. No choice,” Jared replied quickly, closing his eyes as he flipped the blade and drove it into his own heart.
Chapter 14
Farris’ last moments were confused. The pain of her injuries, the confusion of why the Adjudicator would do something so foolish, and the protests of Hunter began to blur together as she fell to the ground, bleeding out. All she’d wanted to do was treat them well, and instead Farris was here, bleeding out. As her life’s blood poured onto the ground, Farris physically and mentally reached out for help, her hand shaking as it reached across the cavern floor.
And then her eyes went dark forever.
Sistina suddenly stiffened in her chair as an immense burst of mana flooded down one of her links, which then shattered. Her eyes widened and she retreated to her tree, trying to find who had just died, and how it had happened.
Blinking in surprise, Farris wondered what had happened. One moment she’d been in pain, and the next she felt perfectly fine. She was sitting in a chair in front of a table set with tea, and she was floating through an immense gray void. Sitting across from her was Death, which felt oddly fitting.
Death was exactly what Farris had always imagined her as. A female elven figure shrouded in white mourning robes, Death’s hair and face were covered by a veiled hood that obscured everything above the eyes, causing the deity’s black lips to stand out. Farris had to wonder if—
“Yes, you are dead, Farris Skyblessed. And this is not the shape that I greet all the newly departed in. I take the form that those who die truly expect.” Death interrupted Farris’ thoughts with a soft, almost mellow voice. Her tone was almost conversational.
“Ah… what happens now, then?” Farris asked hesitantly, uncertain what to anticipate next. Everyone died, but other than passing on to an afterlife, no one truly knew what happened in between.
“Normally, I look over your soul and make a judgement as to which afterlife you deserve, based on those gods who wish to offer you an afterlife, and what deeds you actually performed in life. If it was a near choice between multiple options, I would allow you to choose which afterlife you went to,” Death explained quietly. “You would remember nothing of our meeting, but it is necessary. On the other hand, your own situation changes that somewhat.”
“Why is that?” Farris asked, growing worried as she took the tea and sipped it. The wonderful flavor helped her to relax slightly before she asked, “I can’t think of anything that would change how death works.”
“Look down, Farris,” Death suggested gently.
Blinking, Farris looked down as suggested. Glowing so brightly she could see it even through her clothing, the same clothes she had been wearing when she died, was the slave brand. It glowed bright gold, threaded through with green and crimson, twisting as she watched. Gasping, Farris asked. “W-what is going on?”
“What you consider a slave brand is a demonic binding. Not only does the nation of Kelvanis steal your freedom when it brands you, it also dedicates your soul to a demon lord. Normally, I would simply send your soul to that demon with regret, but your situation changed again when Sistina claimed it.” Death smiled slightly, drawing Farris’ attention again. “Unlike the demon lord in question, Sistina has no wish to bind your soul in perpetuity against your wishes. She does not know this consciously, but it is true. So, I am once again able to offer you a choice, Farris Skyblessed.”
Raising each of her hands into the air, Death caused two images to appear. In one was a picture of Sistina’s tree, but in this sight the tree glowed with veins of power like nothing Farris had seen before, the lights of her brand barely more than a firefly next to the sun by comparison. In the other was a serene woodland scene from fairy tales, with angels, fey, unicorns, and other beings of light throughout it. Death smiled again, speaking softly. “You may choose. Go to Sistina, the world tree reborn and who could claim you if she truly wished. Or go to the realm of Ryala, whose faith you followed for much of your life. The choice is yours.”
And Farris stopped, staring at the two images for what seemed like an eternity.
Jared wasn’t surprised to see Death as he died. The imposing grim reaper made him shiver as he stared at the god before him. A moment later, Jared drew himself to his full height and asked calmly, “So what’s next for me?”
“You are a complex, misguided man, Jared Falgrave,” Death rasped out, leaning on his scythe. “Unfortunately for you, your fate is set. You have but one possible destination.”
“What? Why is that?” Jared asked, his eyes widening.
“Because you are branded with the mark of a demon lord. Goodbye, Jared Falgrave,” Death spoke almost regretfully, waving his bony hand.
A sucking sensation pulled Jared away from the god and the gray world in which he dwelled, and slowly, the light began to change. Moments later, he found himself face to face with a crimson-skinned face covered in ridges and horns, with demonic eyes glaring at him. Behind the creature that would stand ten feet tall if it hadn’t been hunched over was a torture chamber lit by intense flames, over which he could see the bodies of other humans, writhing and screaming in agony.
“Jared Falgrave,” the creature in front of Jared growled in a voice like stone grinding against stone, an immense hand grabbing him by the throat. “We’ve been expecting you.”
A strange feeling made Sina stop her knife practice and look up toward Sistina’s tree. There was nothing specific she could put her finger on that had drawn her attention, just that there was something different.
At that moment, Sistina’s tree flared with light, the tiny flickering motes turning into shining beacons that nearly blinded Sina. Reflexively raising a hand to block out the light, in an instant Sina saw a faint elven figure silhouetted against it. The light faded a moment later, and any sign of the figure was gone.
“What in the name of the gods was that?” Sina asked, shaken by the experience.
A pair of glowing hands embraced the immaterial body of Farris’ soul, warm and comforting as they wrapped around her and held her. Farris shuddered as she felt the immense, ancient soul that inhabited Sistina’s tree, and the incredible power pulsing through her veins. Looking out at Sistina, Farris realized that it was a mirror of Sistina’s physical body that was holding her, extending from the tree itself as she gazed on Farris sadly.
“What do you wish for?” Sistina whispered into Farris’ mind, the tendril of a thought barely brushing against the soul as Sistina strove not to harm Farris, who was so fragile by comparison.
Farris shuddered again, the power of that thought almost overwhelming her. But she gazed back, beginning to see, to truly see what Phynis saw in Sistina. The gentle devotion, behind which stood a strange figure of darkness, a figure that was yet sleeping. And after a moment she replied, her mental voice threadbare. “I promised to protect Phynis. I made an oath, and I failed. She was injured, and you succeeded where I failed. I gave up all I’d achieved to try again, and I failed. I don’t want to fail. I want to help her, to protect her. I gave my oath, and I cannot allow myself to stop trying.”
Sistina considered Farris’ words and slowly nodded, a sad, gentle smile on her face as she whispered her reply. “As you wish. We will find a way. In the time until that happens, rest, recover, and learn.”
Pulling Farris into the tree, the dead elf found herself sinking into Sistina’s mind as well. And slowly, she came to rest in a region filled with knowledge beyond her imagining. Magic, in its most fundamental theories and concepts, surrounded her in a glittering tapestry, each elegant piece of it a fundamental part of Sistina. As Farris rested within that realm, she found herself slowly understanding only the barest fragments of what was shown to her, even as a flow of mana strengthened her spirit.
Sistina’s eyes snapped open again and she stood from her chair, not even bothering to close her book. Architecture could wait. Ignoring the surprise on the two researcher’s faces, she walked out of the library at a brisk pace, truly annoyed.
She already knew approximately what had happened to Farris. The elf’s soul had told her much, though not the precise details of why Jared had done what he had. It made little sense to Sistina either, as she remembered how he’d looked when he surrendered. But the power that Farris’ presence granted her was undeniable as well, causing a faint sensation of guilt to grow in Sistina. She didn’t like the fact that one of the dead had increased her own power as much as it had, but there was little she could do. Not until she found a way to give Farris a body of her own.
Turning down the hall that led to the prisoners, Sistina could hear arguing and panic from ahead. Keeping the prisoners was obviously a bad idea, so she’d have to figure out what to do with them. Puzzling over ideas, Sistina thrust open the door into the prisoner’s cavern, and the argument raging between the soldiers came to an abrupt end.
Nine of the soldiers were gathered together, out of eleven in total. Sistina made note of the fact that the man that Farris had healed wasn’t present, nor was the woman Hunter. Everyone else was gathered together, and terror appeared on their faces as they saw her. She stepped out from behind the golem and walked toward the cave where Farris had died, ignoring the rest of them.
“W-we didn’t know what Jared was going to do!” one of the men protested, and Sistina’s eyes narrowed as she saw a few drops of blood on his clothing. He was one of the ones who’d restrained Farris. The man kept going despite how he was shaking like a leaf. “He said he was going to question her, then let her go. We didn’t know anything about… I mean, we didn’t know he was gonna kill her!”
“Silence,” Sistina spoke firmly, stopping and giving him a hard look. “Judgement later.”
Opening his mouth, the man looked like he was about to protest, but he took a look at her eyes and swallowed hard, looking down instead as he took a step back.
Continuing into the small cave, Sistina found the woman, Hunter, trying to clean up the two bodies. The brown-haired woman froze, surprise and panic in her eyes as she saw Sistina, her mouth moving wordlessly. Shaking her head, Sistina knelt next to Farris’ body and let out a soft sigh of sorrow. Closing her eyes for a moment, Sistina brought to mind the memories, the hopes and dreams that Farris’ soul had shared with her, and her sorrow deepened, until a single tear welled up in her eye, trickling down her cheek.
Reaching up to her cheek, Sistina gently collected the tear and dripped it into the hideous second mouth carved into Farris’ neck. Channeling a thread of mana, Sistina murmured softly, “Sorrow, Farris.”
The wounds on Farris’ body slowly closed, leaving her still dead, but without the damage that had killed her. Closing the elf’s glassy eyes, Sistina instead turned her attention to Jared’s body, narrowing her eyes.
Now to find out if her suspicions were correct.
Chapter 15
Phynis all but flinched back at the rage in the eyes of the other guards. Desa’s rage was the most obvious, but the mage took a deep breath before asking, very softly, “And what, pray tell, are you going to do with the prisoners now, Sistina? Farris died because we kept them.”
“Undecided. Complex situation,” Sistina replied, frowning and shaking her head. She raised a finger to forestall Desa’s protest, narrowing her eyes. “Wait. Explanation.”
The group was gathered in a small conference room of the library, and no one had been happy to hear that Farris was dead. Farris had been the doctor and healer for Phynis’ guard, and Phynis already missed the friendly, kind woman. She couldn’t imagine what in the hells the prisoners had been thinking to attack her when there was no chance of escaping.
Turning away to a slate board on a wall, Sistina picked up a piece of chalk. She rapidly sketched the outlines of the five types of slave brands that Phynis knew the dryad had seen, each side by side and in remarkable detail. Just above the sketch of the simple black crest she drew an outline of a simpler marking, one that Phynis recognized as the most basic of command sigils. Two more complex symbols were drawn as well, and then Sistina drew lines between the various symbols and the slave brands.
Tapping the command symbols, Sistina pointed at the crests and asked, “Controls. Correct?”
“That’s right. Any command sigil can command those with a slave brand, but those of higher rank have their orders take precedence,” Desa confirmed, frowning at the board. “But what is all of this about?”
“Incomplete,” Sistina murmured, turning her attention to the board again, and drawing another symbol above the command sigils, this one exceedingly complex, from which she drew lines to the command sigils. She looked at them solemnly as she tapped those lines. “Controls. Jared controlled.”
“What?” Helia exclaimed, her eyes going huge as shock overwhelmed her anger. “But… but aren’t they supposed to be command sigils? They aren’t slaves!”
“Memories hazy. Remember pieces,” Sistina cautioned, wiping the board clean with a piece of damp cloth, then began drawing a magical diagram at a rapid pace. It started at the center of the board, but the complexity rapidly grew as it moved outward, until the entire thing was about three feet across. Phynis felt her mouth hanging open slightly as Sistina stopped, considering the diagram for a moment before murmuring, “Approximate.”
“How can someone who has trouble with words be able to draw something like that without even thinking about it?” Skylark asked Alissa softly, prompting a helpless shrug in return.
“No idea. She just… does it, sometimes,” Alissa whispered back.
“Sistina? Some of us have no idea what you just drew. What is that?” Desa inquired. “And what does it have to do with Farris’ death?”
“Center. Demon Lord,” Sistina spoke, tapping the center of the diagram. Moving outward, she continued. “Controls demons. Control lessers. Control mortals. Steps removed. Jared forced. Farris… victim.”
“Oh. So, all of the people commanding slaves in Kelvanis can be controlled by someone else?” Phynis asked, looking at Desa in horror. “How could that happen? I’ve never even heard whispers of something like that being possible before!”
Desa looked like she’d bitten into something rotten, but kept quiet as Sistina shrugged. “Unknown. Am tree, not seer.”
“Back to the subject, what about the soldiers? Are they controlled?” Desa asked. “Or can they be?”
<
br /> “No brands,” Sistina explained with a shake of her head. “Still unhappy. Uncertain judgement.”
“Part of me just wants to kill them. They invaded, they tried to kill or capture us. Capturing them hasn’t helped us in any way at all,” Evrial spoke up, the guard looking extremely upset.
“That might be a bit of an overreaction. They weren’t the ones who killed Farris,” Helia interjected, her eyes puffy from shed tears. “I don’t feel right killing captives.”
Evrial was about to speak when Sistina spoke up, her voice harsh. “No.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Desa asked, looking at the dryad. Phynis could see the anger in her old friend’s eyes, but the mage was at least waiting to hear what their host wanted.
“My fault. Precautions… bad. Golem stops escape. Not attacks. Couldn’t sense attack. My fault,” Sistina spoke softly, her eyes darkening as they fell to Phynis. “Cannot judge. Phynis. You are trained. Your decision.”
“Me?” Phynis protested as everyone’s eyes turned to her. “But… why me?”
Desa seemed to hesitate a moment before nodding. “Sistina’s right. You were trained to take the throne, Phynis, so you’re the best person to judge this. I’m not sure that Sistina is being entirely fair with herself about who’s at fault, but I agree on this.”
There was a murmur of agreement from around the table, and Phynis hesitated for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and sat up straight in her chair. “Well, if you insist.”
Taking a long minute to go over her options, Phynis finally spoke softly, cringing internally. “Our options are not extensive. We can kill them, keep them prisoner indefinitely, enslave them, or release them. Even if we offer them parole, it’s doubtful that they would be allowed to actually keep to the terms we offered them. Desa, your opinion?”
“Hmm…” Desa considered for a long moment, frowning deeply. Finally sighing, she scowled as she answered grudgingly. “Release them. I refuse to be like Kelvanis, and keeping them here is just asking for something to go wrong. I hate to say it, but that’s the only answer that I can personally stomach. I want to be able to look at myself in a mirror.”
Spells of Old (Ancient Dreams Book 2) Page 11
