Three Acts of Penance [01] Attrition: The First Act of Penance

by S. G. Night

  “It was something you said earlier…” Racath answered. “About collateral damage.”

  “What about it?”

  Racath drew a shaky breath. “This summer, I killed three members of the Ministry of Intelligence, and a potential Dominion informant. I have no remorse for them. But for because of their deaths…the Demons took more than a dozen Human lives as recompense. I remember how it felt, watching them die…it was like…I can’t even describe it.” He looked at her. “How many will they take for this? How many people will bear our punishment if we kill a god tomorrow?”

  The girl with golden hair looked lost for words. “Racath…we have to do this. We can’t just…just….” Her eyes seemed almost wounded. “This is the path, Racath. The path I’ve been guiding you toward. You promised me — no doubts, remember? This has to be done if we’re ever going to beat the Dominion.”

  “I know,” Racath said with a dark, humorless laugh. “That’s the part that really kills me. If we don’t do this, Io will never be free. But if we do, then who knows how many people will die because of it? God made this our…my…task. I’ve accepted it. I am responsible for Io’s freedom.”

  He felt his voice waver. “Does that make me responsible for all the innocents who die as well? Does their blood fall on me? Is that the price? Innocent blood on my hands?”

  He shut his eyes and lowered his head. “Are those people’s lives the price of freedom?”

  Nelle reached around his shoulders and hugged him. “I don’t know, Racath,” she whispered to him.

  There was a prickle on Racath’s neck: a tear from Nelle’s eye had onto his skin.

  “I don’t know. But I know you. And I know this: the mere fact that you even ask that question makes you a better man than most who have ever lived.”

  “I’m not sure if that changes things.”

  “It does.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Injustice enrages you, Racath, for no reason other than it’s wrong. I’ve seen it. Evil angers you because that’s just who you are, and so you fight it with every ounce of strength you’ve got. That makes you different. It makes you better than the Demons. The blood of those people is on their hands, never yours.”

  Racath leaned into her embrace. He gripped Daragoian tighter.

  “I want to believe you.”

  “Then believe me.”

  “I’m trying.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  A God’s House

  Evening came on the 15th of Abur. And they were ready.

  Brahn — dressed in a foppish burgundy waistcoat with gold buttons — showed the six of them to the docks where he kept his boat.

  Nelle wore her new dress of red satin, her hair pinned back in a delicate chignon, as was the current fashion amongst the gentry. Getting her makeup right had been a bit of a challenge, seeing as none of three females of the group had any experience with that sort of thing. But, after some adventurous experimentation, they finally made it workable.

  The rest of the Scorpions were dressed in the work clothes of deckhands, carrying gunny sacks and bundles full of gear under their arms. Notak, as ever, wore his illusionary façade.

  Once aboard Brahn’s yacht, they set to work readying the vessel for departure. As soon as they were clear of the dock, Racath and Rachel retreated to the cabin to change into their Shadows. Rachel didn’t seem bashful in the slightest, but Racath carefully averted his eyes while they were dressing. After donning their gear, Racath called the rest of them in to review the plan one last time.

  “We arrive at Territh Umbra at five-o’-clock,” he began. “We approach the island from the south-east. Rachel and I jump ship a few hundred yards from shore. We swim to the island and hide in the shed that Notak mentioned, where we wait until the sun goes down. Notak?”

  Notak took his cue. “We bring the boat around to dock at the northern pier. Brahn and Nelle disembark. If anyone asks, Toren, Alexis and I are Brahn’s crew, assigned to wait on the boat until he returns at the party’s end. We three then seclude ourselves inside the cabin.”

  Racath nodded approvingly. “Brahn?”

  “Do we really have to do this again?” the Human groaned, rolling his eyes.

  Rachel pulled a black stiletto from the loop on her arm and began to twirl it dangerously between her fingers. “You know, I could just perforate his bowels right here and let the fishies have him. I think everyone wins in that scenario.”

  Brahn turned a sickly green and his shoulders drew defensively inward. “Alright, alright I get it….once we’re off the ship, I escort the girl through the Arkûl checkpoint and up to the house. We spend the first half-hour or so socializing with the other guests. At five-thirty, once the Baron has invited everyone upstairs, I hand her off to him. Sometime after dinner, I leave and return here to the ship.”

  “I then acquaint myself with the Baron over dinner from five-thirty until six-thirty,” Nelle piped. “Be sociable, polite, and enthusiastic, like I actually want to be there. I don’t look him in the eye for too long and I reapply perfume every half-hour or so to ensure he can’t smell my blood.”

  Brahn made a perplexed face when she said the last part. “Smell your…what? What’s wrong with your blood?”

  “Once it’s dark, I leave Rachel in the shed and make my way to the south-east wall of the mansion,” Racath said, ignoring Brahn. “That’ll be around six-o’-clock. I climb up to one of the fourth-floor windows and sneak inside the ballroom — before the party moves upstairs for the dance. I find a good hiding place near the stairs leading up to the Baron’s chambers and wait there. Alexis?”

  “We’ll be securing our escape route. After nightfall, after all the guests have docked their vessels, I sneak my way off the boat and down the pier to where the Navy corvettes are anchored. I work my magic on each ship, one-by-one, until all three are disabled and weaponless. I then do the same to as many of the guest’s vessels as I can, so they can’t be deputized for the purpose of chasing us.”

  “And while she does that, I shall cover her with the Shroud,” Notak said.

  Toren’s turn. “I look after Notak and the boat while they’re occupied.”

  “I get back here before eight-o’-clock and await Racath’s signal,” Alexis finished.

  Rachel spoke again. “I leave the shed at around seven. I make my way to the house and start my climb to the fifth-floor window that looks into the hallway outside the penthouse. Once I’m there, I wait until I see Nelle and the Baron pass by the window on their way to his rooms.”

  “From six-thirty to eight, I dance and mingle in the ballroom,” Nelle said. “Keep the Baron interested. Once everyone heads downstairs for the drug-party, I…” Nelle wobbled her shoulders exaggeratedly. “…lure the Baron upstairs as quickly as I can.”

  “I get ready to move as soon as I see Nelle headed for the stairs,” said Racath.

  “Monger escorts me up the stairs, past the two Arkûl guards, and into his rooms,” Nelle replied.

  Rachel continued. “Once I seen Nelle pass the window and I’m sure that the door is shut behind her, I slip in through the window and take out the two Arkûl as quickly and quietly as I can, so Racath can get up the stairs. Once he’s joined me, he goes out the window and I levitate him to the roof. I then wait there and make sure no one else comes up the stairs.”

  “I keep the Baron’s attention for as long as possible…” Nelle said with a grimace, shuffling her feet a little. “And try to keep him at bay long enough for Racath to get there.”

  Racath put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I then give you three the signal,” he indicated Notak, Toren, and Alexis. “A brief but bright flare of magic. I can’t keep it lit for too long without the Arkûl on the grounds noticing, so keep a close eye out for it. I then hop down to the balcony from the roof, slip inside Monger’s room, and eliminate him before he can do anything to Nelle. Toren?”

  “As soon as we get your signal,” Toren said. “We ta
ke out the Arkûl guards on the pier as fast as we can, before they can raise the alarm. We prepare then hurry back to the ship and prepare it to cast off. Rachel?”

  “I wait for Nelle and Racath to come to the hallway through the door. I’ll levitate you both out through the window, getting you as close to the ground as I can before dropping you. I then follow after.”

  “And who’s going to lower you down?” Alexis asked her.

  Rachel made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “It’s a little different for me, kid. Gravity is my slave. If I don’t want it to hurt me, it won’t.”

  Racath continued before they could get sidetracked. “The three of us make our way to the docks and get back onto the ship. We cast off, sail away, and get the hell out of Dor’mon before the chaos ensues. We all clear?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Okay, then,” Racath grinned. “Let’s kill ourselves a god.”

  ——

  When the shape of Territh Umbra was just a few hundred feet distant, Racath and Rachel went to the prow of the boat. The others were out on the deck as well, Notak, Toren, and Alexis working the sails and the helm. Nelle sat with her legs folded on a crate nearby, humming to herself as she rocked back and forth. Brahn was looking out over the railing, his expression gaunt, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to be a part of.

  “There’s the shed,” Racath said to Rachel, pointing to the small structure beside the path that ran along the island’s shore. “We should go now.” He looked back at everyone and raised a hand to them. “Good luck, all. We’ll see you tonight.” Turning, Racath jumped into the water. Amidst the reflection of the grey sky on the Bay’s surface, he became an almost indistinguishable black shape, swimming unseen toward the island.

  Rachel leaned over to Brahn and laid a hand on his shoulder. The Human flinched away, but then hesitated when he saw the contrite expression on her face. “Listen…” Rachel said, sounding almost apologetic. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

  Brahn blinked in surprise. He had to swallow hard before he could reply with a shaky smile. “Uh…it’s okay…I guess? You don’t need to apologize….”

  “No, I really do,” Rachel said with profound sincerity. “I really am sorry.”

  “For what?” Brahn asked, clearly confused by Rachel’s newfound friendliness.

  Rachel cast a sidelong look at other Scorpions, who were still busy with the sail. She leaned and whispered in Brahn’s ear.

  “I’m sorry that the others wouldn’t let me kill you,” she hissed. The remorse melting off her face like a wax mask, revealing the cold, hard spite beneath — Rachel Vaveran’s true face. “I’m sorry I didn’t slice off your diminutive genitals while I had the chance. And I’m sorry that I never got to crush your skull under my heel like a wrinkly grape.”

  She dug her fingers deep into Brahn’s shoulder, bruising him beneath the burgundy waistcoat. The merchant’s eyes went wide as chicken eggs, his mouth glued shut by fear.

  “Understand this,” Rachel growled. “When all this is over, there will be nowhere to hide where I cannot find you. Nowhere to run where I can't chase you. When all this is over, I promise you that nobody — not the gentry, not the Dominion, not merciful God Himself — will be able to save you from me.”

  She grinned a cruel grin. Winked. Then dove into the Bay.

  ——

  When Racath reached the shoreline, he waited in the shallows near the shed. A trio of Arkûl guards in black armor thudded down the path by the water, patrolling. Racath tucked his face below the surface and waited for them to pass.

  The water beside him fluttered, and Rachel poked her head up out of the Bay.

  “We clear?” she asked, treading water as she wiped her eyes.

  Racath checked the path again: the patrol had disappeared around the bend, the thumping of their iron boots fading into the distance. He nodded. “You go first.”

  Rachel climbed up onto the shore, looked left then right, and hurried over to the shed. Once she was inside, Racath followed suit, shutting the door behind him.

  Rachel pulled back the hood of her Shadow and shook out her hair. The water-proofing rotendry on their Shadows had kept them both reasonably dry, but Rachel’s unprotected hair was soaked through. As she shook her head, the wet strands of it slapped against her face and forehead, clinging there. She swore and clawed at her head, trying to wring it out.

  “I hate water,” she grumbled. Her face twisted into a snarl so livid you’d have thought a wagon had just run over her toe.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Racath placated her, surprised at how quickly her temper could escalate. “Relax. Calm down. It’s just a little wet. It’s fine. Let me help.”

  She turned her silver eyes onto him, the intensity blurred over by curiosity. “What are you going to—?”

  Racath released a controlled plume of heat from his markara. It rushed over Rachel’s skin, turning every drop of residual water into steam while leaving her flesh unburned. He did the same for himself.

  Rachel blinked and ran her fingers through her freshly dried hair. “Well then…” she commented. “That’s handy....” She looked up at him uncertainly. “…Thanks.”

  Racath shrugged. “No trouble.” He sat down on a crate by the door.

  Pulling her hood back up, Rachel took a spot across from him. “So now we wait?”

  Racath nodded. “Indeed. I’ll leave as soon as the sun’s gone. You follow an hour later.”

  “And how do I know when an hour’s gone by?” she asked, arching a questioning eyebrow.

  He waggled his fingers at the door of the shed. “By Notak’s estimate, a patrol will pass the shed every six minutes or so. Listen for the footsteps ten times.”

  “Alrighty then…”

  There was a long silence. What little grey daylight could filter into the shed between the wooden slats was fading as sunset drew nearer. Racath could hear the rhythmic murmur of the water lapping against the rocky shore. They each made a pointed effort not to look at each other, which only made things more awkward.

  “So…” he said when he couldn’t stand it anymore. “How am I doing?”

  “Hmm?” Rachel grunted, as though she’d forgotten he was there. “How’re you doing with what?”

  “You know,” Racath mumbled sheepishly. “With this. The whole being-in-charge thing.”

  “Oh,” she said simply. “Uh…fine, I suppose.”

  Racath frowned. “I just want to be sure I’m not stepping on any toes. You didn’t seem too happy when Oron first brought me on.”

  Rachel fidgeted in her seat, a hint of regret tugging at her face. “Yeah, I know…I’m sorry about that. I was just worried that…I don’t why I was worried.”

  “You were worried I’d be some stuck-up prick that’d try and enforce chain-of-command and piss like that.”

  “Exactly,” Rachel said, grinning with relief at his understanding. “But you’re not. You’ve been good about keeping everyone…I dunno, equal. I don’t feel commanded when you tell me to do something, I feel…asked. If that makes sense.” She fidgeted again. “I have some…” she made face. “Problems with authority…in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I have.”

  “I just hate being told what to do!” Rachel explained. Her voice had quickened, as though she was trying to justify herself as quickly as possible. “I get really frustrated with people who think they’re better than me because some arbitrary hierarchy says they’re my superior. I hate it. And I get…really intense about things.” She looked at Racath apologetically. “And I’m sorry about that, too. I get angry real easily. I’m working on it, but it’s hard.”

  “It’s alright,” Racath said honestly. “I understand completely.”

  “I don’t know if you do…” Rachel murmured. “I don’t think you really grasp the extent of how intense I get. Mrak didn’t send me to Oron just because I was good Scorpion-material, or because I was the best that the Genshwin had
to offer at the time. I was, but it was really because I was so impossible to deal with, and I was too useful for him to kill me. So he sent me away to get me off his plate.”

  Racath smirked again. “Trust me, Rachel. I understand.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Oron never told you how I ended up in the domus, did he?”

  “He never mentioned it.”

  Racath leaned forward. “Would you like to know?”

  Curious, Rachel leaned inward too.

  “I was just like you,” Racath told her. “I wasn’t just reassigned to the domus either. I was kicked out of Velik Tor.”

  Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Wait, you too?! What did you do?”

  “You remember the revolt in Milonok?” Racath said. “I started it. And when Mrak harassed me about it, I called him a spineless twit.”

  Rachel let out a giggle — a real, girlish giggle — that she stifled with her hand. “Really?!”

  “Yup,” Racath nodded. “So Mrak gave me a map to Oron’s, told me to get my stuff together, get the hell out by sundown and never come back.”

  Rachel laughed with delight. “That’s exactly what he did to me!”

  “What did you do?” Racath asked in turn.

  “I refused to write a report for Virgil several jobs in a row,” Rachel said. “Then, when Mrak demanded I deliver all of them to the archives by that night, I paid one of the acolytes to piss in Virgil’s desk drawer.”

  It was Racath’s turn to widen his eyes. “No way, that was you?”

  She nodded. “Uh huh! When Mrak confronted me about it, I called him a stupid faul with a pole stuck so far up his ass that I was amazed he could walk straight.”

  They both broke into laughter, struggling to keep it quiet beneath their hands.

  “You know, Thanjel,” Rachel chuckled. “You’re not so bad after all.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Racath smiled. “So, you think we can pull this off?”

  Rachel nodded. “Yes. I think we can. It’s a good plan. More daring than anything Notak could dream up, anyway. I like it.”

  “Good,” Racath said. “Let’s just hope it works.”