Dark Immolation

by Christopher Husberg

  She dropped down silently from her hiding place, landing quietly in the street behind Trave. Trave turned. “Glad you showed up,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “Didn’t have much of a choice,” Astrid said.

  “You and me both.”

  They stood staring at one another for a moment. Astrid felt her instincts tugging at her, pleading with her to get as far away from this man as she could. His whole demeanor threw her off.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Astrid asked.

  Trave frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re acting so bloody calm. What in Oblivion are you planning, Trave?”

  “I’m not planning anything. I am… very different than when we last met, Astrid.”

  “No shit,” Astrid muttered. She eyed him warily.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “The old Trave—”

  “The old Trave is gone,” he said. “He burned away years ago. He burned away when you burned me.”

  Astrid narrowed her eyes. That memory was still fresh in her mind, after decades. She feared it would never leave her.

  “Cabral thinks he is torturing us by giving us this mission together. He thinks we are terrified of one another. But that doesn’t have to be the case. Not for you, anyway.”

  Astrid stared deep into Trave’s clear gray eye. “Let’s just get the job done,” she said.

  Together they walked along the shadowy streets, careful to hide their faces—and the glow of their eyes—beneath their hooded cloaks.

  “The telenic and the acumen are the actuals,” Trave said.

  Each class of psimancer was dangerous in their own way. Telenics, like Winter, used psimancy to move inanimate objects around them. Acumens, like Kali, used the power to manipulate the minds of others.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sure as I can be,” Trave said. “Some of my men will lure them out. The acumen and telenic will investigate. We’ll kill them, and find the voyant for you.”

  “The voyant won’t see us coming?” Voyants were potentially the most dangerous of the three, but voyants were extremely rare. Somehow, voyants used psimancy to discern future events, but most of them were glorified soothsayers. Astrid had only encountered one or two whose power could be deemed formidable.

  “The voyant will not be a problem.”

  “If he is as weak as you say, I might need another to question. We should take one of the others alive, too. The acumen, if possible.”

  They turned a corner. Supposedly Trave’s men were luring the Nazaniin out of their headquarters right now. It would be a small ruckus, but the strike would be surgical, not enough to alert the town police.

  “We are close,” Trave whispered. “With any luck, my men have attacked and fled already, and—”

  Trave and Astrid stopped. The street before them was wide, with buildings on either side, and a small tower-house that Astrid assumed must be the Nazaniin Turandel headquarters. The street was empty, save for the bodies.

  Astrid counted six of them in a row, sitting up with their backs against the tower-house, their legs sprawled out in front of them. Each man had a large hole in his skull.

  “Shit,” Trave said.

  “Yeah,” Astrid whispered.

  A man and a woman walked out of the shadows, into the moonlight.

  “Welcome,” the man said, a broad smile on his face. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  Trave threw something so fast Astrid did not even see what it was, but the telenic—the woman—swiped it away with her tendra.

  “Two vampires?” the man, the acumen, asked. “Curious. We’ve been aware of the vampire activity in this city for some time, now, but we did not know how many of you there were. How many more of you are there?”

  A ringing began building up between Astrid’s ears. Fortunately acumens had far less power over vampires than humans; he could annoy them, but whatever powers made Astrid strong, fast, and deadly, somehow made her mind more resistant to an acumen’s force. Especially at night.

  What worried Astrid far more was the nightsbane herb she was sure both Nazaniin carried. She did not think they would have nightsbane-soaked blades, like Kali had done in Izet. They wouldn’t have had the time or the warning, if this voyant was as miserable as his reputation indicated. But just the herb itself would be a challenge.

  “Which one you want?” Trave rasped.

  “I’ll take the acumen,” Astrid said. She’d prefer the telenic, as she’d had her share of battles with them. But she needed the acumen alive, and she did not trust Trave to hold back.

  “Very well.” And then Trave was sprinting forward, claws out, pointed teeth bared.

  Astrid lowered her hood, watching the acumen. The man was middle-aged, short, but lean. Astrid did not know whether he was a graduate of the Citadel, but she wouldn’t underestimate him. He had undergone Nazaniin training, and that was enough. The man drew a sword, the familiar long, slightly curved blade of the Nazaniin.

  And then, someone else stepped into the moonlight behind the acumen. Another man, this one taller, younger, bigger. The voyant.

  “The voyant’s here!” Astrid shouted, moving quickly towards them. The closer she got, the more the pain in her skull increased, and she began to feel sharp, burning pain coursing through her blood. One of them had nightsbane, although not a very large quantity. Kali had been in possession of a great deal, and had rendered Astrid immobile. If whatever this cotir carried touched her, that would happen again, but she believed she could fight them face to face, or at least make the attempt.

  Trave certainly could. He swiped a claw at the telenic, but she dodged neatly, wielding a sword of her own and three or four other weapons with her tendra.

  Astrid swallowed hard, ignoring the pain. She did not know how Trave was moving the way he did; she felt like she wanted to lie down and die.

  Knot had better bloody appreciate this.

  Then, Astrid charged forward.

  The smoldering pain beneath her skin seemed to burst into flame, and then she was fighting the acumen, dodging slashes from his sword, trying to return her own with her claws. She was tiny, though, and he outreached her. A sword scraped against her back with the sound of steel on stone; her hardened skin resisted a great deal of damage, but Astrid felt a wound open. She cried out, thinking it had been one of the telenic’s tendron-wielded weapons, but then saw the voyant standing behind her. She rolled to the side just in time to escape another attack.

  He is no variant, Astrid realized. He is an actual. Her view of their battle completely changed. An actual voyant, one who could tap into his powers without the help of frost and wield enough of his power to fight, could be very dangerous indeed. Telenics were the most obvious threat, but rarely the most deadly. Acumens were often far more dangerous, and a fully functioning voyant was the worst of them all.

  Astrid tore a cobbled stone up from the street with her claws and threw it at the voyant, but he stepped out of the way casually. With her advanced eyesight in the night, Astrid saw the reason why. The voyant’s eyes were closed. He was smiling. He had seen the stone flying towards him before Astrid had even thrown it. She needed to separate the two Nazaniin. She couldn’t fight them both at once. The voyant must have the nightsbane, she decided; the horrible screeching pain had been worst when he had slashed her.

  Trave had the telenic on the ground, about to finish her, when the voyant turned to face him. This gave Astrid an open shot at the acumen. She charged at the man, running on all fours, then leapt. He slashed at her in mid-air, but Astrid turned and the blade missed her. She landed and immediately leapt back up, using the stone wall of the tower-house to vault herself even higher, above the acumen. He looked up, raising his sword, but did not move in time. Astrid kicked the sword aside and plunged her claws into the man’s face. Her teeth followed, burying themselves in the man’s neck, and Astrid tasted the sweet toxicity of blood on her tongue. But she couldn’t
feed now, as much as she longed for it. The acumen was down; the ringing in her head had stopped. She needed the voyant. He would be her best informant.

  Astrid turned to see the voyant and the telenic closing in on Trave. He swiped at one then the other with his claws, but they had cornered him against the building. Astrid charged once more, aiming for the voyant. If his eyes were still closed, he would see her coming. Or so she hoped. Sure enough, he turned at the last minute, dodging out of the way as Astrid lunged at him.

  Astrid heard a gurgle, and watched as the telenic’s body slumped to the floor, Trave’s claws in her throat.

  Two down. Astrid only had to make sure that Trave did not kill the third.

  The voyant backed away, his eyes closed, looking—but not looking—back and forth between Astrid and Trave.

  “You can’t defeat us both,” Astrid said.

  “You will not leave me alive, no matter what happens here,” the voyant said, matter-of-factly. He seemed far too calm.

  “That’s not necessarily true,” Astrid said.

  “It is,” the voyant said. “I’ve seen it.”

  Astrid shrugged. She glanced at Trave, who nodded. They had both fought voyants before. They had fought them together, in fact. Trave moved forward, snapping at the voyant, and Astrid did the same, lunging in with her claws. The voyant avoided Trave’s teeth and deflected Astrid’s claws with his sword.

  There were three important things to remember when fighting a voyant. For one thing, they would anticipate your every move, so attempting to anticipate theirs was useless—they would always, always be one step ahead. Instinct had to take over.

  Astrid and Trave attacked again, faster this time, lunging in and backing out quickly. The voyant continued to defend, but Astrid and Trave were dividing his attention; his parries and dodges were deteriorating, growing more desperate.

  The second thing to remember was that there was strength in numbers. Splitting a voyant’s attention meant diminishing his ability to read how he could be attacked. One person could only divide his attention so many times.

  Astrid lunged in, dodging around the voyant’s sword, taking a swipe to her cheek there, a kick to her stomach there. The blows were the necessary cost of victory.

  The last thing to remember was simple action and reaction—a voyant’s advantage was only in reaction. Take away his ability to react, and you take away his advantage. Force him to act, and the ground becomes more even. Voyants had supernatural reflexes, but that did not mean they were infallible. If you attacked one quickly enough, if your onslaught was steady, the moves would blend together. The voyant would falter. So Astrid had to be fast.

  She went after him in earnest, striking and retreating, faster and faster. Astrid kicked a leg out from under the voyant, but it was Trave who finally found the opportunity for a killing blow.

  Which was exactly what Astrid didn’t want.

  Trave snarled, lashing his claws at the voyant’s neck, but Astrid reacted just in time, shouldering her way into Trave’s side while simultaneously slamming her fist onto the voyant’s skull. The man dropped to the street, unconscious.

  Astrid growled, glaring at Trave. “What in Oblivion do you think you’re doing?”

  “What I came here to…” Trave’s voice faded, as did some of the intense red light from his eyes, leaving only a soft glow. Then he nodded.

  * * *

  The fact that Trave was so willing to back off was one more surprise Astrid could add to her growing list. She had thought she would have to fight him, to force him to let the voyant live for her to interrogate him. Instead, he had conceded the man to her willingly, helping her carry the voyant into the Nazaniin headquarters. Then he returned to the street to clear up the bodies.

  Astrid couldn’t even begin to guess his motivations. But she had more pressing concerns. She reached out and gripped the voyant’s forearm. The man’s name was Ferni. He’d been very forthcoming about that; she’d hardly had to torture him at all. But she needed to know a lot more.

  Astrid tightened her grip and felt bones crack. Ferni screamed, or made the best attempt he could given that he was gagged. Astrid placed the index finger of her other hand, caked with drying blood, on the voyant’s lips.

  “Shhhh,” she told him. “Shhh.” Ferni’s screams turned to choked sobs. “There, there,” Astrid whispered. “It’s all right. I imagine that hurt worse than the slivers of wood under your fingernails, but I promise that pain will return soon, too.”

  She crinkled her nose. Ferni had shit himself almost an hour ago, and pissed himself more than once by the smell of things. They were in what Astrid assumed was Ferni’s office, the place strewn with scrolls and books. Ferni was strapped to a chair, his arms tied in front of him, resting on a desk.

  “Look, Ferni,” Astrid said. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do. Give me something helpful, and this can all end.” Ferni stared at her, eyes wide. Sweat soaked his brow. Cold sweat, Astrid imagined. She sighed, sitting back. “I can’t imagine the horror of being a voyant and being tortured. You see everything I do before I do it, don’t you? Or, at least, you have the option to see it. I know my curiosity would get the better of me. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. Do you know what I’m going to do next?”

  Astrid ran her hand up his thigh, and Ferni let out a light squeal around the gag. “No, that’s not where I’m going. Not yet.” Astrid’s hand slid back down Ferni’s leg, finally resting on his knee. She rubbed the kneecap, smiling at Ferni.

  “Do you see it, Ferni? Do you know what I’m going to do next?”

  Ferni shook his head, whimpering.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to look?” Astrid said. “It might prepare you for the pain.”

  Ferni shook his head again.

  “You could always just tell me what I want to know. Then all of this would go away.”

  Ferni shook his head, this time closing his eyes. Then, Ferni squirmed mightily, letting out a scream through the gag.

  Astrid laughed out loud. “You peeked ahead, didn’t you?” She gripped Ferni’s kneecap between her fingertips and squeezed. Lightly at first, then squeezing harder and harder. Ferni’s squirming and screaming grew more and more frantic, until the bone shattered between Astrid’s fingers, and Ferni’s screaming commenced in earnest.

  Astrid waited a few moments for Ferni’s cries to weaken into sobs. Then she slammed her fist down on the desk. “Ferni!”

  Ferni jumped, or whatever the equivalent of a man tied to a chair and table jumping looked like. His eyes shot toward Astrid.

  “Are you going to talk now, or what?”

  Ferni looked at her, eyes wide, tears streaming down his face. Then, slowly, Ferni nodded.

  Astrid grinned. “Wonderful,” she said. She reached out, and Ferni flinched. “Now, now, I’m just removing your gag. I’ve got to be able to understand you, otherwise I’m afraid you’re only in for more pain.” She untied the gag, and Ferni gasped in a breath. “Now, what do you know about Lathe Tallon?”

  Ferni took another deep, ragged breath.

  Astrid sighed impatiently, leaning forward. “If you’re not ready to talk, I’ll—”

  “No!”

  Astrid raised her hands, leaning back. “Very well then, Ferni. Talk.”

  “All right,” Ferni said, and his face scrunched up tight like he was about to sob, but he fought it. By the Goddess, the man fought it. “All right,” he repeated. “Lathe Tallon.”

  “That’s right,” Astrid said. “I know he was a member of your order, Ferni. Tell me what you know about Lathe the agent of the Nazaniin.”

  “He was one of our top agents,” Ferni said. “He was in the High Echelon.”

  “What’s the High Echelon?”

  “The Triad’s favorite psimancers, their generals. The most talented and dangerous psimancers in the world. Lathe was… everyone in the organization knew his name.”

  Astrid shook her head. “Is that all you have to
tell me? Because if so, I…”

  “I’ve seen him,” Ferni said. “Twice. Years ago, he was sent on a mission here to assassinate… to assassinate two members of the nobility.”

  “The Storonams,” Astrid said.

  Ferni’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Lord and Lady Storonam. He was sent here to kill them.”

  “Why him and not you?” Astrid asked.

  “Local agents never handle local jobs,” Ferni whispered, leaning his head back against the chair. “We always bring in outside help for that.”

  Astrid nodded. “To keep your cover?”

  “Among other things.”

  “You saw him a second time. When was that?”

  “Almost two years ago, before he disappeared. He was on his way to…”

  “Where?”

  Ferni looked at her, eyes twitching.

  “Canta’s bones,” Astrid muttered. “I’ll hurt you more if you don’t tell me, Ferni. Confidentiality be damned. Tell me what he was doing.”

  “Going to Roden,” Ferni said. “He was going to Roden, for a job. I don’t know what it was, I swear.”

  Astrid nodded, considering this. The story tallied with what Knot said had happened, with what she had heard about in Izet. But still, none of this seemed helpful. “Who do you report to?” she asked.

  Ferni’s eyes widened.

  “Who is it?” Astrid asked again. “Ferni, I don’t have to keep encouraging you, do I?”

  “No,” Ferni whispered, hanging his head. “No. I report to Rune. A member of the Triad.”

  “A voyant?” Astrid asked.

  “A voyant, yes.”

  “And you report to him via voidstone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Oh, for Canta’s sake—”

  In one smooth motion, Astrid’s hand snapped out and clamped itself on Ferni’s mouth. With the other, she drew out her claws, and pointed one long, knife-like claw a hair’s breadth away from Ferni’s open eye. “Where is it?” Astrid asked again. Ferni squirmed, screams muffled by Astrid’s hand. “Will you tell me?”