by M. R. Forbes
He stumbled forward, the voices all joining together in his mind and more voices joining them. All of the Cursed he had ordered to die. The soldiers he had killed in battle, the villagers he had slaughtered to make a statement in his name. "Murderer," they all shouted, the chorus booming in his ears, taking over his entire being.
"No."
The word came out as a whisper, a whine, weak and pitiful. Talon slumped to his knees, leaning over and covering his head with his hands. He was suddenly tired. So tired. He felt so old. A thousand years, at least. How had he wound up here? How had Aren? How had any of them?
It didn't make sense.
Nothing made sense.
Eryn.
She was still alive. He could still save her. And the others. So many others. Trapped in the mines, enslaved by his will. The Mediators had lost their cure. They would use their magic, and as long as they hadn't been exposed to the ebocite they would die.
The Cursed would die too until they found another way to help them. There was nothing he could do about that. Better to die free when the Curse took them than to be murdered. Better to have a chance, and to give thousands of others a chance.
He heaved deep breaths, casting out the pain and keeping the anger. It had fueled him this far, and it would carry him to the end. Thomas was gone, a person he knew he once was but who had died with his son here in the Refinery. There was no room for him in this world.
There was only room for General Talon Rast, First of Nine, Champion of Ares'Nor, the man who would kill Jeremiah and set the entire Empire free.
He got to his feet again, dabbing his eyes with a sleeve before approaching the tomb once more. He looked down at Aren with smoldering eyes, put his finger to his son's forehead and drew a sword over it.
"Blood for blood," he said.
Then he turned and began collecting the vials of the cure in his arms, gathering them up and carrying them out of the room. He didn't look back as he left. The past was gone. So far gone it was irretrievable. He had to keep his eyes on the future. To those he could still save.
He returned to the large central room, to where Kwille lay dead on the floor and the juggernauts stood silently waiting for orders. He approached the dead General, kneeling down to place the vials of blood across his corpse and keep them from slipping and breaking on the stone floor. Then he picked up the control stone. He stared at it for a moment, unsure if he would even be able to use it. He placed it around his neck.
He could feel them. The juggernauts. Eight of them. His to control.
"Go. Retrieve an ircidium box so that we can transport the cure," he said to one of them through the stone. The juggernaut in the rear began to move, exiting the room. "Hurry." He could hear it begin to run.
A smile creased his face as he looked back at Kwille. His brother had thought to talk him into surrender. He had thought that seeing his imprisoned son would bring him back to their side, and help him to remember the promise. He had been wrong. There was no going back. There never had been. Kwille didn't understand that the reasons no longer mattered. The anger mattered. The pain.
For thousands of years the world was beautiful and alive, bright and colorful and filled with hope. Until a small group of wizards thought they could carry it ever further, ever faster, and the Shifters had brought down all that they had known. Until Jeremiah had chosen not to rebuild it, but to subvert it and own it. Perhaps it was the war that had made him mad. Perhaps it was his guilt for the damage he had helped to cause.
It didn't matter. Guilt. Madness. Evil. The result was the same.
The end would be the same.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Talon
Talon left the Refinery a short time later, returning to the tunnel that fed out beneath the sea with eight juggernauts trailing behind him. There was nothing for them to guard in the Refinery anymore, and he was certain he could put them to good use.
The return journey was a struggle, his body tested by the current that flowed in towards the shore and made it harder to swim. He lost his ability to breathe before he had made it halfway back, and only his determination and his ebocite heart allowed him to escape the place at all.
It was dark when he dragged himself out of the water and limped his way up the sandy shore. A soft rain was falling, and the world around him was dense and empty. The only light nearby came from the sixteen eyes that climbed from the water behind him, whining servos and bursts of steam marking their arrival. He let his body submit then, allowing himself to topple onto the soft earth as the human parts of him returned to life. He gulped at the air between coughs, the thrumming from his heart subsiding into the background once more.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed there before rising again. The rain made it impossible to dry, the clouds made the time difficult to judge. At some point, he regained his feet once more and headed further inland. Wilem and Delia were sure to be nearby, waiting for him to return.
"Wilem," he said loudly, his voice alien to him. He almost felt as though he had belonged in the Refinery with the machines more than he did returning to walk among men.
The was no reply.
"Find the wizard," he ordered the juggernauts through the stone. "He is near."
The metal men behind him immediately changed direction, moving along the shore instead of away from it.
"It is this way," they said in unison.
Talon trailed behind them. Wilem was unwell, sick from his Curse, his exposure to the ebocite forcing him to begin the change. He glanced ahead to the juggernaut with the box of cures held to its back. There were only twelve remaining. Only twelve, forever. How long would that keep Eryn alive if she didn't need to use her Curse again? What would they do once it was gone?
He knew what he would do. There was no other choice.
Murderer.
Yes. Sometimes, it was necessary. Sometimes, it was a gift.
"Wilem," he shouted again. If the boy were awake, he could surely feel the juggernauts' presence. He wanted them to come out, not run away.
"Talon?"
It was Delia who appeared, coming out from behind a grouping of tall grass. She had her blade bared, ready to attack.
"Delia," Talon said, at the same time he paused the juggernauts. "Where is Wilem?"
"He is nearby. He hasn't woken since you left." Her eyes passed across the juggernauts. "You're controlling them?"
Talon held up the control stone. "Yes."
"Did you find it? How the cure is made?"
"Yes."
There was a pause while Delia waited for him to explain. He didn't.
"There is no more cure," he said instead. "It was a lie, like everything else."
"What?"
"That juggernaut is carrying all that is left in the world."
Her eyes brightened. "You have it, though? What remains?"
"Yes."
"Talon, Wilem is sick. He needs the cure."
"Yes." He glanced back at the juggernaut. Twelve vials. Forever. "Take me to him."
Delia motioned for him to follow. They moved along the beach in silence, the metal men marching behind.
"What happened in there?" she asked while they did.
"Something unexpected," he replied.
"Clearly. You aren't the same as you were when you left. I can see that just by looking at you."
He stopped walking, his eyes falling to his feet. "Nothing is the same, Delia. Nothing will ever be the same. Whether we succeed or fail, be assured of that."
"You won't fail."
"No. I can't." He took the dagger from his belt and held it out. "This is yours. Thank you for allowing me to use it."
She took it from him, her eyes pausing on the blade. It had been chipped in his efforts to free Aren, but she didn't comment on it. "Thank you. Wilem is just over the rise. There's a line of trees, and I found some bramble to hide him in. I put the horses further inland. I figured I would hear them complaining if any soldiers turned up."
"A wise plan."
"Your sword is there, too."
He held up Kwille's ircidium blade. "I have a new one," he said as he crested the small hill. He could see the trees she had mentioned a short distance away.
The squeal of a horse pierced the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Talon
"Wilem," Delia cried, breaking into a run towards the trees.
"Delia!" Talon watched her take a few more steps before gathering the energy to race behind her, sending an order to the juggernauts to follow.
The horse fell silent, a flash of light the only indication there was anyone nearby.
They hurried down the slope towards the trees, the heavy footfalls of the juggernauts creating a deep thunder behind them. The soldiers appeared a moment later, clearing the corners of the wood and galloping towards them, an entire line of cavalry with swords drawn, backed by horse-bound archers.
Talon was certain he caught a glimpse of the Mediator near the edge of the trees, staying hidden from view but ready to intercede. The bright light that burst forth and rose above them to illuminate the battlefield confirmed his suspicion.
It also broke the advance.
One good look at the juggernauts charging towards them caused a panic among the front line of soldiers, and their horses ground to a stop, shouts coming up from the riders. The bowmen behind them also paused, the confusion and uncertainty rippling back towards them and freezing their momentum.
Delia peeled off toward the bramble where she had left Wilem.
Talon saw them stop. He saw them scared and unsure. He slowed, ready to call off his own charge. Ready to allow them to survive.
It was the Mediator who cost the soldiers their lives.
A bolt of bright energy flowed from his fingertips, directed at Talon. It was a bold attack, and it surprised him that the wizard was able to keep his wits about him in the face of the onrushing juggernauts. It was also stupid.
"To me," Talon said through the control stone. The juggernaut closest to him stepped in front at the same time he slowed his advance, allowing the ircidium coated creature to catch the full brunt of the magical energy, which skittered off the surface and vanished.
Frightened soldiers drew their swords and whirled their horses, desperately trying to turn around and run the other way. They crashed into one another, shouting and screaming at each other to move aside. The rear line of bowmen raised their weapons and fired forward in desperation, some of the arrows striking their own and adding to the panic.
Then the juggernauts reached the front line.
Talon still could have stopped them, had he wanted to. The attack from the Mediator had reignited his flame of rage, and he didn't hesitate to send them in. For Aren, for Eryn, for the world lost to darkness. Every soldier he slaughtered was one less that Jeremiah could count on, one less that could be assembled when he reached his former friend.
They were dead within seconds. Talon himself had struggled against these juggernauts, their size and weight and power making them almost unstoppable against humans. They pulled soldiers from their horses, breaking them in massive arms or slamming them into the ground.
The Mediator tried to run. He was smart enough not to throw his power at them. He could see their hides were ircidium. Instead he created a distortion field, exposing himself for an advanced wizard and making the last mistake of his life.
Thrummm....
It was so easy for him now to move from one time to another. He continued running, chasing the Mediator while the juggernauts and the world froze around him.
The Mediator didn't notice him at first. He dashed into the trees, his motion wild and desperate. It was only a second or two before he tripped on a branch or a root and tumbled to the ground.
He rolled over as Talon reached him.
"What?" he cried in confusion, his bleeding eyes darting back and forth to ensure he was still in the distortion field. "How?"
Talon raised his blade. "I am the First of Nine. The Champion of Ares'Nor."
"Who?"
"Thomas. Silas. Talon. It doesn't matter. You are the first to fall. Edgewater will be next."
"The Overlord will lock the city tight when he hears you're coming. Even the Carriers won't be able to get in."
"He won't know I'm coming."
The Mediator drew a small disc from his robe, a sharp grin shattering the fear on his boyish face. "He already does, Liar."
Talon removed the Mediator's head.
CHAPTER NINE
Talon
He found Delia and Wilem between the thick, thorny bushes. She was standing over him, knives ready to defend, while he was on his back on the ground, eyes open and still.
She put the knives away when she saw him. "The soldiers?"
"Dead," he said.
"All of them?"
"Yes." He lowered himself to his knees next to Wilem. "Is he awake?"
She joined him on the other side. "I don't know. He's been in and out since you left." She took his sleeve and pushed it up. His skin was changing.
"Wilem," Talon said softly. "Wilem."
His head shifted just a little, and a soft mumble escaped.
"Can you hear me?" Talon said.
Another mumble.
"I found it, Wilem. I found the cure." He clenched his jaw against the tide of anger that followed the words. "It's gone. He destroyed it. Rather than let us take it. Rather than let the Cursed survive."
Wilem's groan indicated that he understood what that meant, even through his haze of sickness.
"Twelve cures," Talon said. "That is all that remains. Then the Mediators, the Cursed, they will live or die as nature sees fit. Not because of his whim." He paused, looking over at Delia. He had taken one of the cures from the juggernaut's back. He held it in the palm of his hand, hidden from view.
There were only twelve. Before, he would have given one to Wilem without hesitation. Eryn loved the boy, and she would have wanted him to have it.
Now? He knew Wilem's heart was divided. He knew the boy had been taken by Delia's beauty. He didn't blame him for that. She was a strong, intelligent, and attractive young woman, and the hearts of youth were always in flux. Wilem had claimed it was only a passing attraction, and he may have believed it if Curio's daughter wasn't so much like Eryn.
If Delia didn't so clearly return the feelings, despite her efforts not to.
He was an old man. Older than anyone had a right to be. He knew the outcome of such emotions. He knew where that road would lead.
And he only had twelve vials of his son's blood.
The most precious blood in existence, more precious to him than Wilem could ever be.
"Talon. He needs it," Delia said as if she could read his thoughts.
Talon looked back at Wilem. It would be just as easy to end his life. That was the other option. He couldn't allow him to change.
He closed his eyes for a moment, holding the vial tight in his hand. Aren had suffered for so long. For what? Control. His control. If he decided who lived or died at this moment, he was no better. Wilem was sick because he was helping him fight his war. Because the juggernauts meant he no longer needed the Mediator as desperately didn't make that any less true.
He opened his eyes, and his hand, shifting the vial to hold it delicately between two fingers.
"Delia, hand me the injector."
She nodded and bent over near Wilem's pack to find it.
Wilem mumbled. Then his hand rose up, and he pushed the vial away.
"You don't want it?" Talon asked.
Wilem looked back at him with sad eyes. "Eryn," he managed to whisper.
Talon felt the hardness that was driving him crack at her name. His face loosened, and a small smile appeared. He wasn't sure he was wrong about Wilem, but he was no longer as sure he was right, either.
"Thank you, my boy," he said. "I don't know if you would make the same decision were you well. I suppose we may yet find out."
De
lia handed him the small device, and he loaded the vial into it. Then he put it to Wilem's neck and watched Aren's blood seep out of the glass container and into the Mediator.
"When he wakes, we ride for Edgewater," Talon said. "I will use the juggernauts to tear his capital and the Academy apart, and then I'll use the farspeak stone to tell him what I have done. Without the Mediators, he'll be forced to either come out of hiding and face me or lose his grip on the entire Empire."
Delia's face paled at the suggestion, but she didn't say another word. She settled down next to Wilem. "I'll keep an eye on him if you want to get some rest. You look tired."
Talon knew he wouldn't sleep. He had no need of it, his ancient heart's magic able to keep him on the move until the end of eternity. Even so, he backed away from the pair, moving over to the front of the bramble and settling back against a tree. He could just make out the back of one of the juggernauts from there, set to guard them against anything that tried to take them by surprise.
He was certain nothing would.
CHAPTER TEN
Spyne
General Spyne stood behind Worm. The painted man was on his knees, his head down and resting on the back of his hands, motionless in the cool night air.
"Worm, get up," Spyne said.
Worm didn't react.
Spyne looked back to where the Historians had set up camp for the night, at the base of the pass up into the Killorn Mountains - the same pass the Whore and the One Zero had traveled through not long before. They had been riding as hard as they dared for the last three days, and would reach the reactor by the following evening.
And there's no way out of the reactor. No way but to die.
Spyne bared his pointed teeth at the thought. They had eluded him too long, and he owed them for the death of his Historians. Not that he had cared for the ones he had lost, whose names he could barely remember. Except they were his Historians. His property. Killing them was equivalent to stealing.
