by O. J. Lowe
Moulton!
I was going to kill him for doing this. I didn’t see how I couldn’t. Slaughtering warriors was fine, well not fine, but justified. Outright murdering those who’d never picked up a weapon was… Huh. That was the human part of me thinking, I realised too late. The part of me that had spent all this time in High Hall appreciated the cunning. This was war after all, Moulton clearly wanted nothing less than total subjugation of the locals.
Why?
If I could understand that, then maybe I’d go closer to understanding him. If he was a knight of the Shining Council, then he’d surely overreached himself here, he’d have to win in order to escape the consequences and even then, it might not be enough. Furthermore, how was his magic functioning the way it was?
That old question and not an answer in sight as I pushed the doors to the throne room open, the first traces of conversation coming to me as Moulton stared down Queen Leanna, didn’t even give me a cursory reaction as I strode in.
“— Cannot be permitted to stand,” Leanna finished. “You think you can walk into my house and demand my surrender.”
“I only ask for surrender as the first option,” Moulton said. “I’m happy to demand your death, you know. I’d be really happy for that, but hey, I’m giving diplomacy a chance.”
I came up short, leaned against the wall and folded my arms. Okay, that was it, his death sentence he’d just signed. Walking in here and threatening a fae queen was the magical equivalent of sticking your tongue in a plug socket. Yeah, you might survive it. It’s going to really fucking hurt though. She rose to her feet, her eyes glittering with malice, I barely saw the orb of energy forming in her hands before she thrust them at Moulton, directed the blast square into his chest.
Black armour spread across his body, the same way my amulet worked for me, though I couldn’t help noticing his was a lot more customised, bore spikes on the pauldrons and greaves, his helm protruding forward like a beak. The blast hit him, drove him back several feet but otherwise didn’t harm him, a dull laugh echoing from deep within it.
“The Shining Council dares send one of their knights to attack me here?” Leanna demanded, her face etched with a bastard blend of shock and outrage. “They’ll regret this!”
“No,” he said. “You will. They don’t know I’m here. This isn’t business, Majesty, this is so immensely personal. Maybe if you survive, you could take it up with them. I don’t care in truth. All I’ve ever wanted is to stand here before you and see the fear in your eyes.”
“Do I look scared?”
“I think you’re in denial,” he scowled. “You have no cards left to play. My armour makes me immune to magic. Your guards are nowhere to be seen. Your right hand is in the field as an army approaches your door. Your knight is dead. I’ve spent a lot of time planning this, you know. Luring that idiot Frazer into the trap—” A hot spark of anger bit into me— “a trap you forced him into yourself, that was the hard part. Getting the troll-apes to attack you, well that was easy. They really do hate you all.”
Leanna shot me a bemused look, I simply shrugged at her, spun my finger about my forehead to demonstrate his diminished mental state
“How did my knight die?” she asked. Was that concern on her face? If it was, it was an elaborate ruse, I had to give her that, though a risky one. Anything to keep Moulton distracted. Maybe I could stab the bastard in the back. Anyone who’d ever seen an interaction between Leanna and I beyond those first moments she’d given me the power would know concern wasn’t on the forefront of her mind.
“Horrifically,” Moulton said. “I left him tied down where the troll-apes could find him.”
Silently, I summoned a knife into existence in my hand, tried to hide my smile over the joy at this newfound ability. How had I never worked this out before? All this time pissing about carrying a sword. Leanna’s eyes met mine, met my knife and her lips curved ever so slightly at the corners. If you didn’t know her, you’d never have guessed it as a smile.
“Well,” she said. “If you disposed of him that easily, then you must indeed be a fearsome warrior, if what you say is true. It also means I’m down a knight. Do you want the job?”
I was glad she asked him that, the laughter that boomed around the throne room masked my silent approach, he damn near doubled over in mirth. “You must be joking. I’d sooner die than work for you, Leanna. Your time has come to an end, you simply don’t realise it yet.”
“As has yours,” she said, all too aware I was close enough to plunge the knife into his back. I recalled what she said on those very first days, that I couldn’t afford to hesitate, when the moment came, I had to strike. And strike I did, drove the knife right into his back, confident the fae magic that made it, the magic that could cancel out mortal magic, would cut through the armour he wore like it was butter.
Any resistance I felt was marginal, not least as my hand went through him too, right to the elbow, the illusion turning and shaking a bemused head at me. “Really?” it asked. “You think I didn’t know you were there?”
Ten.
Training to be a knight was hard, possibly the hardest thing I’d ever done with my life and it could well be the thing that saved my life. I knew that. If I’d thought living in the gutter of Stoller’s Shanty in the Novisarium was hard, having the shit routinely kicked out of me by Rasputin and his selection of thugs in the palace guard was worse, definitely more painful. On the days I’d taken a particularly bad beating, he’d even denied me food, though that wasn’t an unfamiliar punishment. I’d gotten used to that. Sometimes we trained with weapons, practice swords that magically dealt harsh zaps of pain when they tagged you, left my skin black and smouldering, sometimes we fought hand to hand. He had his remit to turn me into a weapon and he wouldn’t be deterred from that. In a way, I came to admire his single-minded focus over the task at hand. He had his way; he wasn’t going to stop until the job was done.
Of course, cruelty and hardship as the only way you know, it doesn’t entirely work. It was the reason he’d given me Elionora, to take care of me, to heal me, to dress those wounds suffered during sparring. Even then though, that had been a lesson in itself, that you were either dominant or you were nothing. Breaking her, well I didn’t like to dwell on that. The tenderness she’d shown me after I had though, those were the memories I preferred to remember. For the first six months after, I remained in constant worry she was going to stab me in the back the first chance she got.
I’d mentioned it to Rasputin, he’d merely barked a laugh. “Don’t ever forget that feeling, son. It might not be her but there’s always someone out there who wants to stick the knife in your back. Because of who you are now, you’re a target. You’ll always be a target. Someone wants revenge on the queen, you’re a target. Until you’re seen as otherwise, you’re going to be viewed a soft touch because you’re mortal.”
It was why we trained; I knew that. We trained so that I got better. Break me down and build me back up, keep repeating the process until I became something more than I had been before. That first time he tried to punch me to the ground, and I caught his fist, my muscles screaming with the effort, it was indescribably. And just for a moment, I thought I’d caught a glimpse of a smile on his face, approval.
“Good,” he’d said. “Good. Now do it again?”
At that point, he’d clattered me three times as hard and nearly knocked me spark out, the dismay flooded me that he’d been pulling his punches all the time. “There’s always going to be someone stronger than you, be someone more experienced. That, you can only do so much about. What you can be, is deadlier. Work on it, strangle your compassion, cut out any weakness. You get a chance to strike them down and you damn well take it. Don’t ever show them mercy. The fae hate that. We won’t thank you for it.”
I reacted, hurled myself to the ground as the illusion faded and a black sword swung through the air behind me, might well have taken my head off had I not moved. I tucked into a roll, came up
on both feet, the knife I’d summoned shifting into a sword.
“I was surprised,” Moulton said, examining his blade, his true form an identical duplicate to the illusion he’d created. “Surprised but not by much. I didn’t think you’d work that illusion out.”
“I like to think I exceed expectations,” I said. “You’ve got one chance to walk away, Moulton.” I tried to ignore the laser focus of Leanna’s vision on my back, could almost feel the heat of her breath against my neck. She didn’t like that, she wanted him to suffer for his impudence. “Rest assured, we’ll be putting a complaint in to the Shining Council, but you’ll at least have the chance to run.”
“Why would I run?” Moulton hissed through gritted teeth. “Everything I want is right here in this room.”
“What did her majesty ever do to you?” I demanded.
“Me?” he asked. “Nothing. I wouldn’t have been born if not for her. But some insults cannot be ignored. Some vows have to be fulfilled. I made one a long time ago and it can’t be ignored.”
“Who?” Leanna asked, her voice silky. “Who did you swear a vow to?”
He didn’t answer her, continued to fixate on me. “Everything in my life has been building to this point. I became the best I could be, eventually was given one of the amulets of the five families, all so I could stand here now. I’m not going to walk away before the bitter end has arrived. Someone isn’t leaving here alive.”
I didn’t have a comeback to that, wasn’t entirely sure what I could say. He’d made up his mind, trying to dissuade him otherwise was going to be pointless. You can lead a horse to water, you can’t make it drink if it doesn’t want to.
“Then I guess we don’t have a choice,” I said.
“You could walk away, let me kill her,” Moulton said, pointing to Leanna.
“I just said we don’t have a choice,” I repeated, swept my sword into the same fighting stance Rasputin had taught me once upon a time. “And I stand by that.”
“Then truly know it’s nothing personal against you!”
Fuck, but Moulton could fight, he came at me like a freight train, his armour not slowing him down in the slightest. I briefly had the chance to wonder about the similarities between mine and his, before the thoughts were driven from me, his blade came for my face, I blocked it with mine, snapped my helmet into existence for protection. Our swords sang their cry of battle as silver met onyx with a clang and suddenly, we were duelling, trading blows in the throne room.
I didn’t even have the chance to consider just how ridiculous this truly was, too busy trying to stay alive, my blade danced in my hands, moving to counter his every strike. All thoughts faded to nothing as I tried to stay alive, operating on instinct, reading his movements, watching his every subtle motion as if he were an open book. All that time Rasputin had spent breaking me, it had been time well spent, I’d become one of the finest swords in High Hall, easily on a par with opponents’ centuries ahead of me. I was sure he and Leanna had done something with time manipulation to make it possible, though I’d never been able to prove it.
Moulton swiped at me, I jerked back and raked my blade across his shoulder, my blade scraping against his armour impotently with a pained shriek that made me wince in my helmet. The truth was, we were far too evenly matched and with the armour in play, we couldn’t really hurt each other. More than once he’d hurled shadow magic at me, but the black strands crashed harmlessly against my silver armour and dissipated into nothing. If I’d been wearing my armour when we’d first met, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to knock me out like he had.
Irony.
For minutes, we traded blows until Leanna rose to her feet and smashed her palms together with a thunderous crash, the sound brought us to a halt as a wall of pure white energy encircled us in the makeshift arena. The purpose of which became clear in a matter of moments as my armour faded, my sword vanishing, and no amount of effort on my part would bring it back into existence. About the only saving grace of it was Moulton suffered the same problem, his armour vanishing with a pop. He thrust a hand at me, as if desperate to snuff me out with his magic and yet the effect was negligible. Nothing. Mine didn’t respond either.
I turned, raised an eyebrow at Leanna and she smiled at me, gave me a little nod as if to say, ‘well go on then.’
I didn’t need telling twice, I threw myself at Moulton, bull-rushed him into a pillar and a pained grunt escaped him as he found himself sandwiched, he brought his fists down into my back, yet any pain felt a distant sensation I could ignore. Hell, I wanted to ignore it. If I survived, I could be rebuilt again. Not a chance he was knocking me down the way Rasputin had. A thousand-year-old sadistic fae with mental issues? Yeah, Moulton looked insignificant by comparison.
I got what Leanna had done, she’d turned off all magic in the area, left it down to the men beneath the magic. I’d been a scrapper long before I’d ended up here, I’d had to fight for everything. Whoever Moulton had been, he might have had magic, he might have trained with weapons, I doubted he’d been through everything I had. And that was why he’d lose.
He tried to bring another fist down onto my back, I twisted away and drove my hand hard into his solar plexus, his eyes widened, the breath driven from him and he doubled over, I followed with an uppercut to his unprotected face, felt his nose smash under my blow. He howled, kicked out at me and suddenly I was falling, the ground hit me hard and a great weight landed on my chest, blows rained down onto my face, splitting flesh, hot blood covering me, filling my eyes. Sharp pain filled my mouth, the coppery taste of blood assaulting my taste buds. Through the scarlet haze, Moulton grinned at me, his own face ghoulish and the hatred prickled at me.
Who the fuck did he think he was, coming in here and embarrassing me, threatening my boss? He thought he was someone, he was fucking nothing, and I intended to prove that to him. My knee rose involuntarily, crashed into his groin and that bemusement faded, replaced with a sudden sharp gasp of pain, the weight abating as he recoiled from me. I used that chance, tossed him off me and was on my feet, ran a sleeve across my eyes to clear my vision. I didn’t give him the chance to get up, drove my foot into his side, not once but twice and he recoiled away, tried to roll out of my reach. I followed him, sprang on him like a tiger and unwittingly drove an elbow into his forehead, tried to ignore the rupture of pain. The fucking elbow is a bastard sensitive area. Ever banged it on a table? Yep, horrible, right? Plus, the human skull is one of the thickest bones in the body. It has to be when you consider what’s inside there to be protected. Still, a sharp blow to the head, it jars the brain, leaves it hard to concentrate. It’s the reason one of the best ways to stop wizards is to give them a punch in the nose before they can throw a spell at you. No concentration, no magic. Easy, right?
It hadn’t done too much for Moulton either, the faintest outline of a bruise already forming across his brow, his breath coming out in desperate little pants as he tried to push himself to his feet.
“You done already?” I asked, tried to ignore the rippling pain through my elbow, the pounding in my head where he’d slammed me about earlier. “Because I can do this all day.”
That was what I’d intended to say anyway, doubtless it came out a whole lot less coherent than that. My tongue felt thick, twice the size. I think I’d bitten it at some point when he’d been smacking me about.
He looked at me, then to Leanna in all her terrible glory. Since the magic had been sucked out the area, she looked twice as haunting, taller and more imposing than she had before, her face contorted with cold, bitter fury of scorn. I doubted she had reason to harm me, and I was ready to shit myself in fear right there and then, fuck alone knew what Moulton felt as he stared at the icy visage. The answer came in the form of an acrid stench, I sniffed the air, looked at him and caught the contorted expression of pure, unadulterated fear. Whatever he saw, it was like all his nightmares had come to pass at once.
“You walk into my house, you threaten my life
, you mark my knight,” she said, her voice silken with anger. “And you think there’ll be no price to pay? How have you survived so long with so little knowledge of the world, knight of shadow?”
He opened his mouth, as if he desired to speak, yet words failed him. For the first time, I saw the queen as others did, the terrifying bitch capable of shattering psyches and ending lives on a whim, turning mere existences into torture. All the stories that had ever been told about Mab and about Titania, they paled in comparison to what my own eyes told me in that instant.
Huh, Mab? Those pictures were long gone, but looking at Moulton… Nah, it couldn’t be. I was imagining things, surely. That’s the curse of humanity, Rasputin had once told me, that the minds are always running, dwelling on things that shouldn’t be dwelled on. Life, he’d told me, is what you make of it. You can worry about how things were, or how they might turn out to be, but ultimately, you’re always in the present. Tomorrow and yesterday are abstract concepts, possibilities that shouldn’t affect your thinking too much.
I think he’d had enough. Moulton finally tore his gaze from Leanna and tore for the exit, through the magic-nullifying barrier, hitting the door like hellhounds were chasing him and barrelled through it, didn’t stop. The moment he passed from the throne room, the barrier faded around me and I felt the dull buzz of my amulet against my chest. That was good, like an old friend who’d come to talk with me again.
I turned towards Leanna the Terrible, her vision of horrors untold still plastered across her face, it took all my mental steel to look at her, to know that even as the images flickered against the corners of my vision, I wasn’t the one she sought. I doubted I could resist it if she brought even a fraction of that horror against me, manic laughs and the odours of death, the taste of grave dirt and bitter earthworms filling all my orifices as I looked at her.
As rapidly as she’d formed the expression, it faded from her and she smiled at me.
