Deadly Assessments

by Drew Hayes

  “Yes, perhaps taming one like her in such a short time is ambitious. Luckily, ambition is not a crime in the Court of Frost.” Hellebore quickly recovered herself, and I didn’t like the gleam in her eyes as she stared down at us. “Very well, Agent Jenkins, you have requested an explanation, and I shall now provide it. For the final test of your trial, I wish to see how well you and your betrothed do when pushed to the edge. In the crucible of battle, one’s true spirit emerges. Let us see whether you two can stand together, or if you’ll fall alone. We both know I lack the necessary power to kill you outright, Agent Jenkins, but for this task, there is a special condition. If you are injured enough to call forth the devil inside, then your trial will be deemed a failure. Other than that, you need only survive until the onslaught is quelled.”

  “Objection!” June was at Krystal’s side in a blur; I’d forgotten how quick she could be. June might even be a match for Deborah’s speed. “The Court of Frost may not assign tasks that are impossible to complete. All tests must be passable; it is the law of our lands. You would demand she fight stripped of her powers? That is more than can be rightfully asked.”

  “Impossible?” Hellebore placed a hand on her chest, as though she’d been wounded. “What a ridiculous notion. Did I not permit her betrothed to bring forth the entirety of his clan? How can one argue that I have presented an insurmountable task by stripping one agent of her powers while filling her ranks with allies? I sense a therian, mages, vampires, even a weapon of destiny. The other agent, however, is not a member of the clan, and as such, will not be permitted to fight.”

  Well, crap on cracker. I’d really been hoping she would forget to exclude Arch, even if that was a flimsy dream. We did still have one ace up our sleeve, though. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Deborah piped up from my side, addressing Hellebore directly.

  “You know that I’ve been sworn to protect the life of Fredrick Fletcher until the Blood Council renders judgment. I trust there are no objections to seeing our evaluation process through to the end?”

  To my surprise, Hellebore respectfully nodded. “Of course. The Court of Frost recognizes the authority of the Blood Council. You may fulfill your duty and keep him alive as long as is needed. But unless I am mistaken, there is no such protection or assessment for the rest of the clan. They would not be yours to keep alive.”

  “Correct. The rest of them are fair game,” Deborah replied.

  “What?” I jerked around, meeting her eyes with a glare. “We had a deal. I submit to judgment, the rest of my clan stays safe.”

  She stared right back, waiting. Her silence forced me to search my memory, to recall the exact wording of the contract we’d signed. It never promised safety to my clan, only that the Blood Council wouldn’t be the ones to kill them if I failed my assessment. Hellebore wasn’t part of the Blood Council, but still . . . we’d been together for six weeks. Did she really not care at all whether the others lived or died? Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Perhaps her hands were bound, just like Arch’s. If that were the case, she could have seemed a little less upbeat about it.

  “I see. You’ll keep me alive, but the rest are on their own.” Not ideal. Not ideal at all. We’d just had our strongest fighters either limited or taken out of the fight entirely. As it stood, the only agent working at full capacity would be June, and I didn’t imagine that even she could single-handedly protect this many of us. “I hope you’re feeling limber, Deborah, because I plan to do all I can to help my clan in whatever ways I am able.”

  My declaration was met with an unexpected smirk. “Good, Fred. That’s exactly the way a clan leader should think.”

  From the other side of the arena, I noticed movement. Something was coming through the same door Krystal and June had used. A lot of somethings, actually; many of them quite large from what I could make out. It was a strange menagerie: living flora, animated ice sculptures, human-shaped hunks of wood. I’d never seen an army quite like it, and unfortunately, “army” definitely felt like the correct word to use. There were so many of these unnatural soldiers making their way into the arena that I quickly lost count.

  “Magical constructs,” Krystal announced to the group. “Fueled by fey magic, with the same weaknesses and strengths, but not alive. They’re lifeless shells; it’s the same as breaking a training dummy.”

  A ripple of ease ran through the group. None of them had felt comfortable with the idea of casually taking a life; they wouldn’t have been in my clan if they were. Empty vessels, mercifully, were another matter entirely. Without moral conflict, they would have no need to hold back. It was a curiously kind gesture to make in our direction; I’d expected Hellebore to exploit our weaknesses. No sooner had the thought run through my mind than June’s words echoed in my ears. The task couldn’t be impossible; that was the law of the court. Forcing us to kill might have qualified as a step too far.

  Still, I was by no means happy with the situation. We were in a tight spot, and constructs or no, I wasn’t one with a proclivity toward violence. We had a chance, at least. The laws of the fey had given us that much.

  Safe on her perch, Hellebore raised a hand overhead. “The final task is simply to survive. If my conditions are met, Agent Jenkins will be released from her contract. If any of the limitations are violated, this task will be considered a failure and she may attempt another—after we clear away the dead, of course.”

  We all tensed. The fray was about to start, and there was no way of knowing what sort of madness would break out when it did. Lifting her hand a few inches higher, Hellebore’s voice came forth, burning in our ears.

  “The final task of Agent Krystal Jenkins’s trial before the Court of Frost begins . . . now.” Hellebore’s hand dropped like a stone, the army of constructs surging forward at her command.

  At the same time, I was just barely able to recognize a flash of metal before surging pain carved into my back. From the moment I’d first signed her contract, part of me had been waiting for Deborah to stab me in the back. I just hadn’t expected her to be so literal about it.

  And I certainly hadn’t expected her to use a silver dagger.

  4.

  I had to make a snap decision. Either I played possum and left my clan to fight on their own, or I showed Deborah that silver didn’t weaken me like it was supposed to. Tempting as it was to hop back up and reveal my secret, there wouldn’t be any point to it yet. Deborah didn’t need silver to stop me; she could break my legs with as little effort as one would snap a carrot. This was symbolic, and until I understood what she was trying to accomplish, I couldn’t work around her. I would have the opportunity afforded by surprise exactly one time, and one time only. I had to use it carefully.

  Dropping to one knee, I let out a tense scream, but didn’t fully collapse. Deborah would have read every file; she would know about my silver-holding contest with Petre of the Turva clan, and so she would expect me to be capable of toughing out the pain to at least some extent. Turning, I tried to look as betrayed as possible. It . . . wasn’t much of a stretch, in all honesty. Despite our roles, I’d grown fond of Deborah. She was one of the few older vampires who had given me hope there was a way to hang on to my humanity even as I aged.

  “I thought you were my bodyguard.”

  “Oh, I still am.” No change in Deborah’s tone, no reaction to my expression. This was all just part of the job. “No wayward lump of animated ice will take you out of the fight. But I’m also here to assess you as a leader, Fred. It’s part of why Hellebore agreed to set up the final test like this. I’ve seen a lot from you so far. I know you care for your clan and your community as a whole. I know that, in terms of diplomacy and inter-parahuman relations, you may be capable of making inroads the rest of us would never imagine. I know your clan loves you, and trusts you, and would likely follow you right into hell if it were needed. What I haven’t gotten to see yet is how you handle real, deadly pressure. Can you lead them? Can you see them through to the othe
r side of this conflict in safety?”

  She hunkered down, meeting my eyes as the sounds of nearby battle rose up. I could hear Neil shouting magical words, and the ring of metal as Albert’s sword came free. “For what it’s worth, this is usually the hardest task we give to the clans being assessed. Stripping a leader of their physical power forces them to lean entirely on the sense in their heads and the trust of their clan. Somehow, I think you might be better prepared to handle this than most of the others I’ve tested.”

  That . . . was actually a fair point. I’d never been one to lean on my vampire strength to see things resolved. While I didn’t have much in the way of tactical experience or strategic planning, I had faith in my clan. They were strong, each and every one of them. If this fight could be won, which seemed to be the case, then I knew my friends would find a way to do so.

  Looking away from Deborah, I assessed the battlefield. Krystal had pulled a gun and was blowing limbs off moving sculptures and humanoid plants, leaving them flailing on the ground. Not far off, June had produced a pair of daggers and was making short work of the enemies Krystal crippled. The two of them were coordinated and flawless, tearing a swath through the enemy’s numbers. I could only imagine what sort of destruction they could wreak if Krystal had been allowed to tap into her powers.

  Neil and Albert were clustered together, fighting nearly back to back. A shield of dark energy, like Albert had employed against the serpentiles, kept Neil protected while Albert swung the Blade of the Unlikely Champion for all that he was worth. The weapon was a potent tool, sundering any construct foolish enough to get within its path. Iron and silver were useful when the occasion demanded, but Albert’s sword was a power unto itself.

  Farther off, Amy was sitting atop a giant burning horse, lobbing bottles that exploded moments later into groups of constructs at a time. The steed—no doubt Bubba using one of Amy’s potions—stampeded around, crushing whatever he could beneath those powerful hooves. Ice shattered and plants caught flame as he thundered through them. Lillian was guarding his flank, darting about and smashing anything that tried to take a direct run at Bubba’s backside. Near them was Arch, standing patiently, the small model of Charlotte Manor safely in his hands.

  They were all powerful, focused, and dangerous. And they were losing.

  From my point of view, I could see more of the battlefield than they could; I could clock just how many of the constructs were rising back up, remaking themselves even after being wounded. I was able to track the swollen numbers of our enemy, see how many were pushing in on the pockets my friends had managed to clear. Soon, the army would overwhelm them. Maybe not everyone—there was real power here, after all. Some would find a way to survive. Unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough. I’d brought my entire clan here, and I’d be damned if we were going to leave without every last one of them.

  Our biggest problem was putting the constructs down for good. Albert’s sword took the life right out of them, and June was gradually slicing them fully apart, but too many were being injured instead of destroyed. We needed something to weaken them, to make every hit count all the more. There was only one substance that could do that for us: iron. I’d really, really hoped that it wouldn’t end up coming to this, but one doesn’t make contingency plans without the willingness to use them.

  “I had a hunch you might be involved in this.” My words didn’t seem to shock Deborah, and that was absolutely okay. Words weren’t the surprise we had in mind. “After all, you admitted to being friends with Hellebore and having a hand in Krystal being gone for so long. Because of that, we decided not to clue you in on every detail of our game plan for today.”

  “A wise move,” Deborah commended. “I hope you’ve made your secret tactics good ones. The tide of battle is not currently on your side.”

  “Then let’s change that, shall we?” I lifted myself a little higher on my knee, raising my voice to make sure it was heard. They were counting on me for the signal, trusting me to fully understand our situation before we exposed our secret. I hoped I was right, but even if I wasn’t, it was still time. Better to try and be wrong than simply wait for failure to wash over us. “Lillian, Albert, time for the arsenal!”

  My command echoed across the battlefield, followed quickly by Lillian muttering, “Shit, I knew he was going to say that.” She started to move, and as she went, I lobbed more instructions to the rest of our friends. We’d have to coordinate this if we wanted to pull it off.

  “Amy, steer Bubba toward Neil and Albert, then put Neil on Bubba’s back. Neil, defend for all you’re worth. Krystal and June, go help cover them; Albert is going to need room to work. Hurry!”

  Some part of me hadn’t really expected them to heed my words, yet they all did without pause. Each of them flew into motion, doing exactly as instructed. Even Krystal and June, though both looked thoroughly confused. They could tell we had something up our sleeves, even if they didn’t yet know what it was.

  “Bringing them all together in a single area. Consolidation of forces,” Deborah surmised. “Not a terrible thought, although it means the fey army only has to funnel their attacks onto one point. Your clan will still be overwhelmed.”

  “A bit of advice, if I may offer it to one so much more experienced. You know more about the world, about living as a vampire, about being a parahuman . . . honestly, there’s virtually nothing you don’t seem to be more informed about than I am, with the possible exception of tax law. However, on this count, you would do well to take careful note: you do not have a better understanding of what my clan can do. I know these people like family, and if you’re ready to count them out, then you truly don’t grasp just how dangerous they really are.”

  Deborah considered my reply for several seconds. “Good speech. Solid sentiment. But unless your clan can do something soon, those were nothing more than pretty words.”

  Everyone had finally managed to converge. Amy hurriedly yanked Neil onto Bubba’s back while Krystal and June carved out a small perimeter. In the center, Albert and Lillian had at last made it to one another. The time had arrived. As long as the others could hold the line, we had a chance.

  “Do you know what makes my clan so dangerous, Deborah? It isn’t just the bond that exists between us, though that is something quite powerful indeed. Nor is it the raw strength of our clan as a whole. I wouldn’t even consider our alliances with prominent members of the parahuman community to be our scariest aspect. No, what makes these people special is that they are strange, misshapen for the roles they were meant to fill. Any of them could have a more mundane life, align with the traditional power structures that would keep them safe. Instead, they threw their lot in with me, an accountant who has no business or experience leading any sort of organization, let alone this. That’s why they’re dangerous.”

  I could already see Albert lining up his strike. He would probably only get one chance to do this properly. After that, things were going to get much riskier than they already were, and that was saying something. He could do it, though. I had faith in Albert; I knew how hard he’d been training for a moment exactly like this one.

  “Because they’re followers?” Deborah asked.

  “Because they’re goddamn lunatics. Each and every one, crazy as the night is long. And that means they come up with some truly insane ideas.”

  With a mighty swing, Albert whipped his sword around and sliced cleanly into his target: Lillian’s stomach.

  5.

  Deborah stiffened in a rare moment of shock. Finally, this was a move she hadn’t seen coming. I grimaced as I watched Lillian plunge her own hands into her gut, wincing through the pain to pull out the first of several plastic-lined objects. She tossed it to Krystal, who yanked off the plastic to reveal a small dagger. Instantly, the constructs around her drew back. They could already tell what the weapon was made from: iron. Dangerous, deadly iron had been smuggled into the lands of the fey.

  The tension in Deborah faded as understanding s
et in. “I see. You hid the iron inside an undead’s stomach cavity, where not even a fey’s senses would catch it. That was why Amy wore the bracelet when we first entered, to establish a reason why the faint whiff of iron might follow us, just in case. I suppose my question is how you knew Lillian would be the one still in play by this point.”

  “We didn’t. I’ve got a supply in my stomach, as well.” Thankfully, we hadn’t needed to do something as troublesome as swallowing the weapons whole. One of the many upsides to having a necromancer in the clan was his ability to work magic on the undead. A spell to put us under, and a few to put the tools in place, had made the process relatively painless. Of course, it was the kind of thing one could only do if they were willing to go under and trust their very life to a member of their clan. That was why I’d felt confident that it was a plan worth trying. As a rule, I’d found any strategy that hinged heavily on vulnerability and trust was one that few other parahumans seemed to consider.

  “Amy also had the Clovers enchant those bags to help mask the iron, as an extra precaution,” I added. “It was my very real intention that today would end without violence or bloodshed, but I’ve started to better appreciate the value in planning for contingencies.”

  Another toss from Lillian; this time to Amy. She’d only been able to fit four daggers in her stomach, but that was enough to equip most of our clan. Arch and Charlotte were on the sidelines; as a half-fey, June couldn’t touch iron; Bubba was an alchemically modified horse, and Albert already had the best weapon on the battlefield. That left only Krystal, Amy, Neil, and Lillian to arm. In the original plan, Arch had been expected to take a dagger while Neil relied on magic, but we’d been prepared to make changes on the fly to meet the needs of our challenge.

  Once the iron daggers entered my friends’ hands, the tide of battle began to shift. No longer were the constructs hobbling back up and reforming after crippling blows. One stab from the iron daggers tore the enchanted life from their bodies, sending them tumbling to the ground in heaps of ice and branches. The surging forces that had been set on overwhelming their opponents were suddenly forced to fan out in temporary retreat. Spread across the battlefield, it was a fight; clumped up on top of each other, it was a slaughter.