A King's Caution

by Brennan C. Adams

  “I’m willing to take the chance, Khel!” Raimie said. “We shouldn’t need to rely on solely you to eliminate Doldimar. Another way must exist to kill him! We can find it!”

  “Could we?” Kheled shook his head. “He’s sustained by a force similar to what keeps me alive. I’m uncertain why I’ve successfully killed him as many times as I have.”

  “Say we focused on the curse afflicting the two of you. Say we found a solution. If the cycle’s broken, Doldimar could revert to Arivor, and the need to kill him would vanish. It wouldn’t matter if your ability remained intact!” Raimie desperately reached for a protest which would overturn Kheled’s reasoning.

  “Or he could stay Doldimar, a powerful Daevetch primeancer in command of a vast army, one he’s had millennia experience commanding.”

  Oh, gods, the struggle on Raimie’s face. His friend desperately wanted a happy ending for them all, and it warmed Kheled’s heart that he cared so much, but sometimes, happy endings were like a food market with a never-ending supply of your favorite fruit. They just didn’t exist.

  “I’ll give the order,” Raimie told him, shoulders slumping.

  Nodding, Kheled prepared to drop to the streets below.

  “But, Khel?” Raimie asked, his posture stiffening. “Don’t think about doing anything stupid on your own. I’ll go with you to face him.”

  Kheled had confronted Doldimar countless times, faced every trick in the Dark Lord’s arsenal, retreated, regrouped, and suffered countless agonies on this last, inevitable leg. He was more than prepared for what the next few weeks would entail. Even so, it was touching his friend wanted to help.

  “Of course, Raimie,” he lied. “I’d never leave you out.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Waking to the horror of my life, screaming alongside my mind, my throat a blazing inferno and-

  Do as you’re told, Arivor, and I’ll make the bad dreams and memories disappear once more.

  Give in, and I become HIM, but I can’t take it anymore, I can’t take it, can’t take, can’t

  …OK.

  -57th Cycle. One year, nine months, and eighteen days since domination of host’s mind

  Tap, tap, tap, tap.

  “-simple enough to overwhelm their defenses, Your Greatness. As far as we’re aware, they’ve a single, rogue Daevetch primeancer at their disposal. While that one’s presence was enough to wrest the Birthing Grounds from our control, it won’t be sufficient to stand against the Enforcer’s full might,” the black-eyed man seemed finished, but he swallowed hard and continued. “Especially if you join us, Your Greatness.”

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Where was the annoying sound coming from? Looking down-oh-he forced his foot to stop jiggling.

  “Why would we want to retake the Birthing Grounds?” he asked of-what was this one’s name again?

  The weakling’s mouth fell open, and Doldimar considered blasting a Daevetch bolt through the gaping hole and out the back of the Enforcer’s skull. He could already envision a gorgeous blood spatter on the far wall…

  Off to the side, Corruption shook its head, and Doldimar grimaced. The Enforcer must have thought the look of displeasure directed at him because he began babbling excuses. Sighing, Doldimar reached for the Daevetch bundle latched into thousands of points in the man’s body.

  “Hush,” he growled, squeezing the Vice. “You’ve bored me long enough.”

  The Enforcer’s jaw worked against the will keeping it closed, and his face gradually reddened.

  “I understand your concerns regarding my handling of the rebel force recently arrived upon our shores,” Doldimar drawled, fiddling with the Enforcer’s Vice, “but none of you understand the full scope of what comes for us. I do. In the past, I’ve directly fought E, and that method has never, never, never worked. I’m attempting a subtler approach this time. The change in methodology means many, many of you peons will die in the process of his defeat, but in the end, I will eliminate the threat, and those of you who remain standing can return to whatever it is you do when you’re not serving me.

  “Now…” Doldimar paused. Really, he should try to remember these weakling’s names. “You. I want you to return to your fellow Enforcers and tell them they’re to do nothing without orders from me. If I find any of you have disobeyed me, then, so help me, I will come down from my tower and eliminate you all. You’re not terribly hard to replace.

  “Do you understand your orders?”

  Doldimar released his hold on the Vice, and only the enormous strength of will which had risen him to his rank kept the Enforcer from falling to the floor.

  “Ye-yes, Y-yo-your Gre-greatness,” his strained voice stammered through shuddering jaws.

  “Good. Get out!”

  After stumbling into shadows, the Enforcer vanished.

  “Was that heavy-handed enough?” Corruption asked.

  “I know you’ve existed since the dawn of time, Corruption, but even with your long existence, you’ve no comprehension of how humans work, do you?” Doldimar asked as he returned to his project. “The Enforcers control vast power, so much so they feel invincible. They occasionally require a slap to remind them of who gave them their power and who could, in the blink of an eye, crush them like the bugs they are.”

  “You could just as easily have bribed the Enforcer with more land or more access to the norms,” the splinter argued.

  “Yes and such a solution would fix one symptom but not the underlying problem,” Doldimar replied. “How like a Corruption splinter to immediately jump to a bribe. Maybe if you were of aspect Manipulation or Coercion, you’d understand, but you’re not, are you? I suppose that, in this, you’ll simply have to trust your Champion. Now, hush. I’m working logistics for the next phase.”

  “I hate your sane days,” Corruption spat behind him,

  Doldimar could feel the grin invading his face. Of course, the splinter preferred times when the chaos of his mind consumed him. He must be easier to handle when Corruption seemed the only real and stable fixture in his life, but ‘sane days’, as the splinter called them, were necessary if Daevetch wished any chance at victory. Thus, the force of nature’s reluctant concession of them so long as Doldimar fed it misery and death. As for him, a clear head was certainly an enjoyable experience, but the greatest pleasure found on these most wondrous of days was watching Corruption sulk.

  Doldimar felt the next interruption coming long before it reached his chambers. Flinging the door open with a touch of Daevetch, he beckoned the two weaklings inside.

  “Forgive me, Your Greatness,” the Kiraak murmured, bowing low. “This one insisted on speaking with you personally. He killed several of my squad before we decided to disturb you.”

  Doldimar cast a cold glance over his shoulder, and his stomach flip-flopped. He turned, allowing a little showmanship to peek through his natural inclinations. The Kiraak seemed suitably awed and cowed, but Doldimar couldn’t read the mysterious figure the weakling escorted. Cloth draped the figure, white strips wrapping its face.

  “Dark Lord,” a venomous voice spat from within the fabric cocoon.

  Male, then. At least he had a gender.

  “Thank you, worm, you may go,” Doldimar muttered.

  “Your Greatness! The danger-”

  A cough cut off her protest. The Vice was proving an exceptionally useful tool today. Forcing the female’s legs to carry her out the door, he slammed it closed. He appreciated that the weaklings were compelled to serve as cannon fodder for him, but in this case, when he could plainly protect himself, the directive was trying.

  “Now, then,” Doldimar murmured, examining the mystery who’d strolled into his chambers. “What are you?”

  Stepping into the shadows, he allowed them to embrace him and tug him along until he reached his destination. Only then did he climb into firelight. He stepped into his chambers immediately behind the mystery, and it took the man at least a handful of seconds to register his change in positio
n. Not a primeancer, in that case, but the mystery did have good reflexes.

  “The disgust in your voice tells me you’re not a fan,” he informed the man’s back. “Assassin, then? No one’s attempted to kill me in ages.”

  Spinning, the mystery took a step back, but if the intimidation tactic had worked on him, Doldimar couldn’t tell due to the all-encompassing mask. Fascinating.

  “Doesn’t matter what I am,” the mystery said. “Only what I can provide you.”

  “And what’s that?” Doldimar asked, stepping once more into the man’s comfort zone.

  This time, the mystery didn’t retreat. “A rebel group’s antics have recently plagued you more so than usual, correct?” the man asked. “I can get you inside information regarding their plans.”

  “I knew it!” Doldimar exclaimed, giggling and excitedly clapping his hands. “You’ve E’s stench all over you. How is he?”

  “I- I don’t know an… E.”

  “Right. He’ll have taken a new name. The other friend of his, the tortured, little spy, mentioned a… Kheled, was it?” Doldimar thoughtfully cocked his head. “The kid said he was dead, which I thought an interesting tactic. If I learn more about the rebels, I’m sure I could quickly assess E’s new identity if I wished.” Not that I need YOU to accomplish the task. “None of that matters at the moment, however. What concerns me is you.”

  In the blink of an eye, Lighteater was drawn from its scabbard. It flashed, and a line of red seeped from a new, inconsequential cut on the mystery’s arm. Shooting a black needle into the break in skin, Doldimar sent it to the base of the mush contained in the man’s head.

  The assault was over in two seconds, but nevertheless, the man unsheathed his sword, retreating to give himself more room for defense.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” Yet. “I only inserted an insignificant Daevetch slip.”

  If anything, the man stiffened more at the assurance.

  “I’ll take it back once we’re finished,” Doldimar promised. “I find Corruption in the system makes honesty more forthcoming.”

  The man snorted as he sheathed his blade. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  “Yes, well, truth has its place,” Doldimar remarked, smirking at Corruption’s bristled shoulders. “So, who are you? And what on earth are you wearing?”

  “This?” the man asked, pointing at his head. “It’s an affectation I’ve acquired from my most recent place of rest. Rather handy when you don’t want your identity known.”

  “I suppose that means you won’t tell me your name?”

  The tilt of the man’s head screamed incredulity.

  “How do I know you’ll provide me useful information if you won’t even relinquish your name?” Doldimar asked, patience wearing thin.

  “You don’t. I’ll prove my value,” the man answered. “The rebel leader is a man called Raimie, a descendant of the lost Audish royal line, all of which I’m sure you already know.”

  Doldimar nodded. His mind distractedly wandered toward imaginings concerning the most efficient way to dissect the man before dismemberment killed him. He’d begin his fun with the concealed face.

  “I’m sure you’re also aware he’s a primeancer,” the object of his fantasy continued, “but did you know he can manipulate both sides of that vile magic?”

  Hello? You speak to a user of that ‘vile magic’, idiot. Wait… “He controls Ele and Daevetch?!”

  “How else would his army have taken the Birthing Grounds so easily?” the man asked. “He snuck into the crater and built a staircase for his men.”

  That was an interesting bit of news. He’d assumed an Enforcer had broken his control before joining the rebels. Such a slip wasn’t impossible, merely incredibly difficult, and Doldimar found he couldn’t decide which situation was more believable, that an Enforcer had grown powerful enough to break his Vice or that E’s ally was a Daevetch primeancer.

  “Perhaps I won’t kill you,” Doldimar said, chuckling when the man flinched, “but tell me. Why would you serve me in this manner? Your loathing of me is blatantly obvious, and you’re aligned with the rebels, that’s for sure.”

  “I am,” the man declared, stiffening with pride. “I wish to see your empire fall, your work destroyed, everything about you erased from the annals of time.”

  Ouch. Harsh.

  “I don’t, however, want to see one tyranny replaced with another,” the words came so muffled Doldimar could picture the man’s teeth grinding with fury and frustration, “which is what will happen if Raimie is the one to put you down. The dark energy he wields will eventually drive him mad, as it does to all of your kind, and the reign of terror will begin once more.”

  Doldimar waited for more, but the mystery had finished.

  “That’s it? You’d betray the man who gives you the greatest chance to see me dead, the only one your side has come across in decades, simply because he’s a primeancer?” What stupidity was this? “How you must despise us!”

  The man aggressively stepped forward, and Doldimar smiled, welcoming the attack.

  “I’ve personal reasons as well,” he snapped. “Raimie needs to die before he realizes the danger I pose to him, and I can’t be the one to eliminate the bastard. I need you for that.”

  “And you can provide me with the intel I require to stay ahead of my enemy.” For once. He’d not anticipated the resumption of spying through the shadows with any relish whatsoever. “It appears we have an agreement.”

  The man retreated as if surprised the ‘Dark Lord’ had accepted his proposal.

  “H-how do I-?”

  “Stay in contact?” Doldimar asked. “Go to requisitions. They’ll provide you with a case of flasks. I’ll summon one to me at the end of each week.”

  He strode back to his map of Uduli, stuck full of pins.

  “O-oh. You’re-?”

  “Eselan, yes. Didn’t notice the hair? How has this fact escaped the resistance’s notice? Although, I suppose I don’t get out much. And who would suspect the cause of the Audish Esela’s extermination would be Eselan himself?” he muttered, moving a blue pin from the map’s corner to the center.

  Doldimar examined the finished map with a critical eye. Troop distribution almost looked right. Shuffle a few more here and there and-

  A cough reminded him a mystery remained in the room.

  “You’re still here?” he asked. “Go away! Unless… Do you wish to share something before you go?”

  “Just that…” The man nervously shifted before blurting, “Raimie has given the order to march on Uduli. The army’s four days out.”

  “Oh. Two days later than expected,” Doldimar murmured. “The extra time will be appreciated. Thank you, whoever you are! Keep in touch!”

  He yanked at the Daevetch in the man’s body, and the solved mystery gasped.

  “Damn primeancers,” the man muttered before striding to the door and yanking it open.

  Doldimar monitored the man’s departure from the palace with something akin to pity. He so obviously despised everything about the ‘Dark Lord’ and his reign, but before long, the miniature Corruption kernel left to nestle at the base of the man’s skull would inspire nothing but loyalty.

  A traitor deserved nothing less.

  Chapter Seventeen

  You know the adage, ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’? Bullshit! Always look a gift horse in the mouth! You don’t know what awful diseases the mangy beast may carry.

  -Unknown

  When Eledis had learned of the order, he’d been irate. Why hadn’t Raimie consulted him? And when he’d discovered the march’s destination, he’d been confused. Raimie had proven he possessed a decent tactical mind. The kid couldn’t believe now was the time to attack such a well defended target. But when the soldiers had obeyed the order without question, gathering up belongings so recently unpacked following their return from the Birthing Grounds, that’s when concern had blossomed.

  Nearly a we
ek into the march and no one had come to look for him or checked to see if he’d followed. He’d begun to think he’d need to track Raimie down when a messenger brought him a summons to the cramped tent the kid had chosen to make his own.

  “Everyone should be here,” the messenger commented as they drew near. “I’ll find the King, and let him know you’re ready. He’ll be with you shortly.”

  Eledis ducked inside, and his stomach dropped at the familiar faces turned toward him.

  Kaedesa frowned at him from her corner, separate from the others. She’d always preferred to stay distant from men of war. Eledis bowed to her which she acknowledged with the barest of nods.

  Marcuset’s eyes had popped upon Eledis’ entrance. His old friend must have come to the same conclusion as him, judging by the fish face. Beside him was-

  “Gistrick!” Eledis exclaimed, all smiles to cover his churning stomach. “How long has it been?”

  “Two months, three weeks,” Gistrick grumbled. “Eleven weeks I’ve been trapped in that damn fortress performing administrative work to resist boredom. I’m almost glad for this fool’s quest if it means I can return to what I do best.”

  “Serving a king to whom Kheled forced you to swear loyalty, one who may or may not be mad?” Eledis asked.

  The other man nervously chuckled. Good. He should question his oath.

  “Eledis!” Marcuset hissed and jerked his head, beckoning him closer.

  Eledis strode forward, glancing Kaedesa’s way. Rolling her eyes, she turned her back on them.

  “What?!” he demanded of his friend once their circle had closed.

  “Surely you’ve noticed-” Marcuset began.