Dead Man's Steel

by Luke Scull

  Both the Halfmage and his chair were lifted bodily off the deck by the Fade commander. Saverian held him over the edge of the railing, above the sea.

  ‘You are nobody,’ Saverian growled. ‘No one ever loved you. No one will remember you. Your life of pain will be as a passing breeze. Hardly felt. Inconsequential. But I – I will echo through eternity.’

  Saverian let go of him.

  Eremul fell, hit the water hard. It was colder than he’d imagined. Out of instinct he began to flail around, but the air trapped in his robes kept him afloat and he forced himself to calm. His chair struck the water right next to him, one of the wheels coming loose. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need it any more. Not ever again.

  He fumbled for the box below the chair as it began to sink into the sea. Managed to get it open and remove the thin sliver of wood within. He pointed it at the hull of the Retribution.

  Though Eremul could not access his own magic, the wand was its own repository. White-hot energy leaped from the tip. Not as hot as the beam from Obrahim’s sceptre, that had somehow sliced through the White Lady’s magical barrier – but hot enough. Hot enough to cut through steel.

  He didn’t let go of the wand. Not when its magic sputtered and died, leaving a hole in the ship above him, which water was already rushing to fill. Not even when the air in his robes finally departed and he began to sink below the surface. He panicked then. He remembered wondering how it would feel to drown.

  He thought he saw movement on the railing of the Retribution and heard a muffled bang as his head went under. More muffled bangs sounded as Fade hand-cannons fired down upon him.

  Maybe they’ll all miss, he thought, oddly calm as he was pulled under. I’m only half a man. It can’t be easy to hit half a—

  AUTUMN

  ✥

  Loose Ends

  ✥

  SASHA HURRIED THROUGH the carcass of Sanctuary that lay below Thelassa, growing dread like a writhing worm in her stomach. Derkin stumbled along behind her. The pair of them picked their way through the skeleton of the dead city, heedless of the threat of crumbling buildings and the misshapen Abandoned that still haunted the ruins.

  Three months after Saverian’s defeat at Thelassa’s harbour, and Sasha was still struggling to come to terms with her place in the world. With the title the people of the City of Towers had bestowed upon her.

  The Grey Sister. First among the Consult. Defender and ruler of the most powerful city in the north.

  She could have sent a group of Whitecloaks on her behalf when she learned of Cole’s plan – but this was personal. She had to do this herself.

  The dilapidated temple of the Mother melted out of the darkness ahead of her. Rays of light cut through the ruined ceiling far above, illuminating the lone figure kneeling before the shattered altar. Above the altar hung the heart of the Reaver. Every beat of the grotesque organ forced blood into the tubes that connected it to Thelassa above, though the towers in which the White Lady’s handmaidens had been formed were nailed shut now. It had been Sasha’s first act upon assuming her new title. There would be no more Unborn under her rule.

  Cole’s hood was pulled up tight over his head. Sasha beckoned Derkin to wait and then made her slow way up the central aisle, stepping around fallen masonry and sections of rotting pew.

  Cole’s head shifted slightly as he heard her approach. ‘You should leave,’ he rasped. ‘This place won’t be safe for much longer.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Sasha asked, although she already knew. She’d known as soon as Derkin had brought her the news.

  ‘Fulfilling my destiny. I can’t run from it any longer. The Reaver won’t let me.’ He turned to stare at her and she gasped. His face was ghostly pale, his thin skin pulled tight over his skull.

  ‘You’ll become a monster,’ she said, trying to hold back tears.

  ‘The monster we need,’ Cole replied grimly. ‘Saverian won’t stop until we’re all dead. We can’t defeat him. Not unless I embrace what I am fully.’

  ‘What you are is my friend,’ she replied. ‘My best friend. The only friend I have.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He reached up and placed a hand on the organ. Immediately his skin gained colour and his cheeks grew fleshier as his vitality was restored.

  ‘We can beat him,’ Sasha pleaded. ‘We beat him once – we can do it again! Please, Cole, stop.’

  ‘He murdered them all,’ Cole rasped. His voice began to change, becoming colder, sinister. A red radiance suffused his body, the shadows writhing around him, shrouding him in darkness. ‘Kayne and Jerek. The White Lady. Thanates. We can’t hold out forever. It’s time to end this.’

  ‘Cole—’

  ‘You and Derkin need to get out of here. Once I lose myself, I’ll be gone forever. I can’t predict what the Reaver will do.’

  ‘You promised me,’ Sasha said, tears in her eyes now. ‘You promised you would never abandon me.’

  Cole jerked as if stabbed. ‘You’re the ruler of a city now. You don’t need me.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Sasha said urgently. ‘I need you more than ever.’

  Cole removed his hand from the Reaver’s heart and Sasha knew she was too late. Her friend was gone, only the briefest flicker of recognition remaining in his grey eyes. ‘Kill them all,’ he snarled, and the voice no longer belonged to Cole but rather echoed from somewhere beyond the grave.

  Derkin let out a terrified cry as the thing that had been Cole drew Magebane and made straight for Sasha. She watched him surge towards her, nothing but murderous intent on his face, and a hundred thoughts raced through her mind. She could attempt to use her telekinetic power to toss him aside, but that would not stop him. She could hurl fallen masonry at him, bury him beneath a pile of rubble, break his body so that he might never leave this temple.

  But she couldn’t do any of those things. Not to him. She would die herself, first.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered instead, and waited for the end.

  Suddenly, the apparition that had been Cole hesitated. With a strangled cry, he spun and plunged Magebane into the Reaver’s heart, slicing it open, a torrent of blood gushing out to flood the altar. A disembodied scream roared through the ruins as the shadows fell away from Cole, the sinister light dying within him.

  Until he stood before her once again.

  *

  The docks were quiet at this early hour. The heat of summer still lingered and Cole had discarded his cloak while he stared out at the harbour, enjoying the peace and solitude. It made a welcome change from the madness of recent months.

  The ships Thelassa had commandeered from Saverian floated beyond the docks, silent sentinels in the night. They were crewed by the army of thralls Saverian had brought to the city. Surprisingly, Sasha had yet to release them from their servitude.

  Cole closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of the sea breeze on his face. Somehow he had resisted the Reaver’s possession.

  She said she loves me.

  He’d destroyed the disembodied heart of the Lord of Death. The god had fallen silent since, though he knew the Reaver wasn’t gone for good – he still felt its essence within him. He knew that, without the heart to restore his vitality, he would have no option but to kill if he wanted to survive. The thought sickened him. He didn’t want to kill. Not ever again.

  Something bobbed along in the water below him. He reached down to retrieve it and stared at it curiously. It was a wheel. He felt like he ought to recognize it.

  ‘The Creator certainly has a sense for the theatrical. The Pattern never ceases to surprise.’

  Cole turned. An old, rotund man in black robes had just appeared behind him. He wore a kindly smile and had a grandfatherly countenance – but there was something discordant about the stranger. Cole felt ill at ease all of a sudden, as though a thousand tiny, invisible spiders were crawling over his flesh.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ he demanded.

  ‘Nowhere in particular,’ r
eplied the stranger. The rising sun bathed his face in a red light.

  ‘Who are you?’ Cole asked.

  ‘I have many names, all of them false. Names can be dangerous, for knowing a thing bestows power over it. You may know me as Marius.’

  ‘Marius?’ Cole gasped. ‘The Magelord of Shadowport? I thought you were dead.’ He stared at the wheel in his hands. A droplet of water hung suspended in mid-air, caught in the act of falling. In the sky above, a seagull was frozen in time.

  ‘A man such as you surely understands the virtue of keeping to the shadows,’ Marius said. ‘Indeed, it is your nature that informs my visit.’

  Cole stared more closely at the stranger’s eyes. ‘You’re a blood mage,’ he hissed. ‘You sent Wolgred to kill me!’

  ‘I sent Wolgred to test you. You are, after all, the Reaver’s chosen tool. Every tool requires sharpening on occasion.’

  ‘I’m no one’s tool,’ Cole snapped.

  ‘We are all someone’s tool, boy. Your choices are not defined by you but by those greater than you. The weavers; the architects; the conductors. Most go through life blissfully unaware they dance to tunes they cannot hear. For centuries the Trine has danced to mine.’

  ‘What do you want with me?’ Cole said angrily. He wasn’t going to dance for anyone ever again.

  ‘I want you to play your role,’ the Magelord said genially. ‘The seeds of the Reaver’s return were sown centuries ago. Death is what shall empower his rebirth and the return of the gods. They will restore this world and end this age of ruin. But first the slate must be wiped clean, you understand. The Ancients and the Nameless did not generate the deaths I had hoped for, and yet everywhere one looks conflict is boiling over. My apprentices have done well. There is yet more to be done – which is where you come in.’

  ‘You want me to kill for you?’ Cole demanded. ‘I won’t!’

  ‘A better question might be whether you wish to live. If so, I believe you have no choice in the matter.’ Marius nodded at Magebane, sheathed on Cole’s belt. ‘You will kill again. They always do.’

  ‘A life of killing is no life at all. I refuse to be a tool.’

  Marius squinted up at the rising sun, his eyes redder than the dawn. ‘Unlike certain of your friends, you are not so important in the grand scheme of things. We will see if your resolve remains firm when the Reaver’s essence begins to consume you.’

  Without warning, Marius stepped off the edge of the docks and disappeared. There was no splash, no great burst of magic; one instant he was there, and the next he was not.

  Cole drew Magebane and stared at it for a long while. He remembered something Brodar Kayne had told him.

  It ain’t the weapon that makes the man. It’s the man that makes the weapon.

  ‘I think it’s time I made a new weapon,’ he whispered.

  He drew his arm back and, with all of his strength, threw Magebane into the harbour. Then he watched it sink beneath the water.

  *

  ‘I have something to tell you.’

  Sasha turned and stared at Cole with tired eyes. She was sitting at her desk in her private chambers in the palace, reading a missive that had just arrived from Westrock. ‘Brandwyn’s dead,’ she said in astonishment. ‘They found his body chopped to pieces. What do you need to tell me?’

  Cole didn’t meet her gaze. ‘I’m not going to be around for much longer.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I thought I should see the world. While I still can.’

  ‘Does this have something to do with what happened earlier? Because—wait, where’s Magebane?’

  ‘Gone,’ Cole said. ‘Somewhere I’ll never find it again. I threw it in the harbour.’

  ‘You did what? Cole! Without it you’ll waste away. You’ll die—’

  ‘We all die,’ Cole cut in. He forced himself to relax. ‘Really, it’s fine. I’m not going to be a slave to that weapon any longer. I spent years thinking I had to be a hero because of Magebane. Then months thinking I had no choice but to be a killer. But there’s always a choice. From now on, I’m just going to be me. Who knows – maybe I can find some way to lift this curse before it devours me.’

  ‘Where will you go?’ Sasha asked. She wanted to cry, but it wouldn’t do for Thelassa’s new ruler to show such weakness. She was a girl no longer. She was the Grey Sister – the head of the Consult and ruler of the greatest city this side of the Unclaimed Lands.

  ‘I’m thinking of heading south. I have some scores to settle.’ Cole hesitated and Sasha knew what was coming. ‘Back in the ruins, when you said you loved me—’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did you reject me before, when I told you how I felt? I still don’t understand.’

  Sasha stared at her reflection in the mirror across the room. Cole followed her gaze. He took in her cropped hair, prematurely greying. The dark veins threading her skin.

  Understanding finally dawned. ‘Sash,’ he said gently. ‘I don’t care how you’ve changed. True, you’re not the same girl you once were. But you’ll always be beautiful in my eyes. You shouldn’t feel you’re not good enough for me just because you’ve changed physically.’

  Sasha stared at him for a long moment. ‘What the fuck, Cole?’ she spluttered.

  His smile stayed fixed on his face but Cole had the feeling he’d just said something utterly foolish. ‘I only meant—’

  ‘I know what you meant! I love you – as a brother. The only way I can love any man. Do you understand me?’

  Cole scratched his head. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

  ‘I like girls, Cole.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘I haven’t been with a man in years. Did you never wonder about that?’

  ‘I assumed you were waiting for me.’

  ‘That’s sweet. But I’d never wait for any man. Not even you.’

  ‘So, what you’re saying is—’

  ‘What I’m saying is that the hero doesn’t always get the girl,’ Sasha said, exasperated. ‘And sometimes it has nothing to do with the hero and everything to do with the girl.’

  I’m not a hero, Cole wanted to say. Then he remembered that he had helped slay the Herald and saved the life of Magnar Kayne. ‘Maybe I am a hero,’ he wondered aloud.

  Sasha gave him a funny look. ‘That wasn’t really the point I was trying to make,’ she said slowly. ‘But, yes, I suppose you are.’

  ‘I understand now,’ Cole said gently. ‘You like girls. That makes things tricky but I dare say not impossible. Just one more challenge for Davarus Cole to overcome.’

  ‘Cole,’ she hissed angrily. ‘You fucking—’

  But he was already moving towards her. Wrapping his arms around her, a big grin on his face. ‘I’m just joking,’ he whispered. And a moment later, she smiled too.

  ‘When are you are going to free the thralls?’ Cole asked gently. ‘You have to, Sash. They’re slaves, just like the Unborn. They don’t deserve this.’

  ‘Soon,’ she replied, not meeting his gaze. ‘First we need to be certain they aren’t dangerous. That they can adapt to life in Thelassa. It will take time.’

  ‘You know,’ Cole mused, ‘it’s strange. Fergus was an evil man, but the things he did may ultimately have ended up saving the city. He gave you the tools to fight off Saverian.’

  Sasha met Cole’s iron gaze. I became the Grey Sister. I will be the ruler Thelassa needs in order to survive.

  ‘I think the lesson is that good men can be capable of evil deeds,’ she said slowly. ‘And evil men can unintentionally do good. There are no absolute heroes or villains.’ No black or white, she thought. ‘Only people who try to do the right thing and those who don’t.’

  ‘Except for Saverian,’ Cole said. ‘He’s just an arsehole.’

  ‘Arseholes can often surprise you.’ They exchanged a grin.

  ‘Do you think Garrett would be proud of us?’ Cole asked, and despite her earlier resolve the question brought tears to Sasha’s eyes.
>
  ‘I know he would,’ she said. ‘And so would the others who didn’t make it this far. Brodar Kayne. Isaac. Even Jerek. They all died for what they believed in. Trying to do the right thing.’

  ‘But what is the right thing?’ Cole asked. ‘How do we know?’

  ‘That,’ whispered Sasha, ‘is the hard part...’

  Epilogue

  ✥

  GENERAL SAVERIAN STARED out of the window panel at the very top of the Obelisk and cast his gaze over the trees in the parks far below. They were already turning gold and brown. Autumn was his favourite season, for it reminded him that while all things born of the Pattern died, he did not. He would endure forever.

  His body had already healed from the damage he had taken from the cannon fire back at Thelassa’s docks. His kind possessed remarkably fast powers of recovery in comparison with humanity, and though he had lost the Retribution and the Breaker of Worlds thanks to the actions of Isaac’s wretched pet, he was calm now. After all, the most valuable thing the fehd possessed – apart from time – was self-control.

  All things die. But we endure.

  Three of his kin had perished when the Retribution had capsized. There were now barely twenty of the People remaining this side of the Endless Ocean, but Saverian was not overly concerned. One of his kin was worth a hundred of humanity.

  The recently installed elevation chamber chimed behind him and Melissan stepped out. His betrothed approached and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Thelassa’s new ruler proves an obstinate foe,’ she said. ‘The implant in her skull that allows her to control the thralls is beyond my ability to override. The army cannot be recaptured.’

  Saverian’s eyes narrowed. ‘The Grey Sister has been lucky so far. Her luck will run out.’

  Melissan nodded. She hesitated a moment. ‘Do you... do you regret any of this?’

  ‘Regret?’ Saverian growled.

  ‘We are so few, trying to hold onto a city of thousands. The things we have done—’

  ‘Were necessary,’ Saverian finished, biting off both words. ‘This is my duty, betrothed. My duty to my people! First, Thelassa will fall. The rest of the north will follow in time. We will wipe mankind from the continent. My brother may have exiled me, but I will not fail him. I will not fail my people. None shall ever again threaten us!’