Sellsword- the Amoral Hero

by Logan Jacobs

  I could hear Theo’s hooves clip clopping along behind me as we progressed along the tunnel. I couldn’t hear the demons’ footsteps at all although I could hear the faintest of rhythmic rasping that I thought must be some kind of breathing. I could also hear the gentle dripping of water from the crevices between the stones that composed the walls of the tunnel. I wondered whether Gorander had created this legion of flesh-eating servants, or summoned and enslaved them to his purposes in the same way that he had enslaved the townspeople of Fairhollow.

  Eventually, we came to a dead end. There was a wall of stone in front of us with no door or window. The demons ahead of me walked straight through it. I followed suit, and on the other side I found myself in a high-ceilinged chamber flooded with shafts of dusty light filtering through stained glass windows.

  The room was largely empty. Its most notable feature was a pair of thrones positioned on a dais at one end. The thrones had ornately carven, pointed backs that rose about six feet tall, I suppose with the intent of creating an intimidating effect, but the result was that it made the occupants look small by comparison.

  In the taller of the two thrones sat a man whom I could only presume to be the sorcerer Gorander, styling himself “Lord.” I had pictured a sort of scrawny, bookish type with weak posture and requiring spectacles, since most sorcerers tended to fit that pattern, but as it turned out he was actually quite large and brawny. His face was extremely long and bony, and his eyes had deep bags under them. He wore his straight brown hair long, tied back in a ponytail, and his beard reached down to his chest, which only accentuated the extraordinary shape of his face and made it look more like someone had taken hold of both forehead and chin and stretched it out. He was wearing silk robes of gold and purple embroidered elaborately with symbols like lions and roses and tridents and hawks.

  But I observed all that in less than a second at one glance and then I was no longer paying any attention to Gorander. Because seated in the slightly lower throne beside him was my ex-lover, Vera Carlisle.

  She had never looked more beautiful, and I had never been less pleased to see her. She was wearing green silk robes that matched Gorander’s in style, and although on him they looked gaudy, vulgar, and ridiculous, on her golden curves with the red brown tattoos peeking out of them the robes became exotic and expensive-looking. Her hair was as long and thick and raven’s wing black as I remembered it, her cheekbones as high and sharp, her mouth as plushly pouting-- and her demeanor just as catlike, sensual, and self-satisfied.

  Well, whatever the hell Vera was doing here, at least I could tell instantly from the mischief, mixed with a fair amount of malice, that glittered in her expression that she hadn’t been turned into one of Gorander’s mind-slaves. So she was perched here next to him in his palace of horrors of her own free will. In some ways, I was glad of that. In some other ways, I was deeply disturbed. And it took a hell of a lot to disturb me.

  “Halston,” she purred. Her voice still caressed my name like a lover’s croon, but her black eyes were cold. If Gorander thought that this nasty little surprise of his would cause me to lower my guard, he was dead wrong. My hackles had never been higher. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

  “Don’t delude yourself, Vera,” I said.

  “I think that we should let bygones be bygones,” she said. “I’m the one who asked my lord to bring you here for an audience, when I realized who the trespasser must be. I’ve explained your unique abilities to him... and your real identity. So he understands why you could be such a valuable asset to us, and should not be harmed.”

  “Your lord?” I scoffed. “What a catch.”

  “I serve Lord Gorander,” Vera corrected me sharply. “I am not married to him.”

  “Yet,” the sorcerer spoke for the first time, and his thin lips curved into an unpleasant smile.

  “You could’ve saved your breath,” I told Vera. “I don’t want any part of this narcissistic façade you’ve created here. Fueled by slave labor and the destruction of all the surrounding potencium towns. And surrounded by these creepy maggot-guts. Couldn’t you afford any decent hired help?”

  “We’ll pay you,” Vera said. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not for hire,” I said.

  “Of course you are, you kill people for money,” she reminded me.

  “Exactly,” I said. “I don’t know what you want me to do for you, and whether it involves killing or not, but you’d have me enable this whole operation, which is rotten through and through. It’s the sadistic scheme of a megalomaniac. The killing I do is clean. I kill to eat. Just like a lion and--”

  “You clearly do not understand what I am attempting to accomplish here,” Gorander interrupted. “Allow me to explain. Yes, I have had to resort to some less than gentle methods so far, but that is only because I could see no other feasible way to make my vision a reality. I had to start from scratch. I was not born into money, like some-- like yourself, as Vera has told me. But soon I will not only have miners, I will have farmers and artisans. My property will start generating real revenue. It will become self-sufficient and legitimate. I will no longer have to raid towns for potencium, no longer have to enchant people to turn them into my willing servants, because people will flock from near and far for the privilege of becoming a part of my empire.”

  “You don’t ‘have’ to do any of those things now,” I said. “You’re not entitled to an empire. People come out here, out West, for freedom from all that bullshit. I guess you never got the message.”

  “You were a prince of a major kingdom,” Gorander stated. “You don’t really believe in all the modern nonsense that they spout about equality and democracy, do you? You don’t really think the current chaotic, dysfunctional state of things in this world will actually last?”

  “Equality and democracy?” I repeated. “No, I don’t. But I do believe in independence and self-determination. And I don’t know what the West will turn into, but it sure as hell ain’t gonna be another monarchy, and certainly not a magocracy.”

  “We can write the fate of the West ourselves,” Vera said earnestly. “You and I and Gorander. We have the power to make it whatever we want it to be.”

  “Vera, I don’t know what kind of hold he’s got on you, but I would’ve expected more from you,” I said. “You’re not this stupid. Or this cruel.”

  “I don’t think you understand the scope of the opportunity that we’re offering you,” Vera said. “Despite what you did to me, I still respect you enough to work with you.”

  “Don’t play the victim with me, it’s tiresome enough when genuinely innocent and weak women do it,” I sighed.

  The demons continued to encircle and guard both me and Theo, although they had drifted a bit to the sides, under the apparent assumption that Gorander and Vera had me under control now. I didn’t know how powerful a sorcerer Gorander was exactly, never having seen him in action, but all that I knew about his recent deeds and all that I had seen of this stronghold he had created for himself did suggest that he was probably the most powerful sorcerer I had ever heard of, so although I would never admit it, his ridiculous notion of conquering and ruling the West wasn’t as far-fetched as it would otherwise have been. Although Vera’s presence changed the equation. I didn’t think he had recruited her due solely to being besotted with her beauty. She was a powerful sorceress in her own right, and her help in that regard had doubtless been invaluable to him and enabled him to accomplish what he could not have on his own.

  “I never trusted you,” Theo grumbled to Vera. I think he was telling the truth. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t always been his favorite woman, the one he found most interesting. My horse and I were in agreement in that respect.

  “Well, I always trusted you,” she replied with a smile that held a bit of sadness. “I’ve thought of you often and hoped that you and Hal were taking good care of each other.”

  “That’s touching,” Gorander interrupted co
ldly, “but if they won’t serve me, I have no use for them, Vera.”

  “Neither do I,” she replied immediately. “But don’t jump to that conclusion too quickly. Let’s host them as our honored guests and let them consider our proposal more thoroughly, at their leisure, when we have properly demonstrated the kind of life that we could offer them.”

  “I hope you do not still have a weakness for this man,” Gorander said warningly.

  “If I did,” Vera said as she turned, laid her hand on the arm of his throne, and looked him in the eye, “then I would be the first to urge his immediate execution. Because I do not tolerate weaknesses, in myself least of all.”

  The sorcerer’s eyes were narrowed within his long, bony face, but after a moment he nodded. “Find a suitable room for him,” he instructed the demons surrounding me and Theo. “And bring the horse to the stables.”

  “Theo will be staying with me,” I interrupted. We couldn’t afford to get separated in this place and have no way to find each other.

  “As you wish,” Gorander conceded disdainfully.

  “Hal, don’t let the grudge you bear me make an idiot of you,” Vera said. She looked awfully pleased with herself lounging in that throne. I knew Vera well enough to know that in her mind, she couldn’t lose in this situation. Either she manipulated me into participating in their evil sorcerous schemes and demonstrated her power over me that way. Or, she made good on the threat to kill me that she’d issued many a time and presided over my execution. In her mind, that would be winning. That would be eliminating what had always been her greatest weakness. Me.

  “I’ve never let any woman make an idiot of me, and I’m not going to start now,” I replied. “But I guess I wouldn’t mind a cold drink and some refreshments, while I’m here. Been a while since I ate a meal that didn’t come out of a saddlebag.”

  Gorander gestured to the demons, and they led both of us away.

  Chapter 15

  The room that Theo and I were escorted to, and left alone in, was a rather peculiar one. Although each individual article of furniture, each tapestry, each statuette of jade, each incense brazier, each tasseled silken cushion, was admittedly of the richest quality that money could buy-- or, perhaps, that sorcery could counterfeit-- none of the styles really matched. Some of it looked like it could have been from Delorne, although other pieces looked more like the products of our ancient rival, neighboring Heden. Other pieces still had an Oriental flavor. Moreover, they belonged to varying eras of history. The room looked, all in all, as though it had been assembled by someone as wealthy as an emperor but as ignorant as a peasant. I guess this was why Gorander needed my help so desperately. But unfortunately for him, I wasn’t particularly keen on switching to a career in interior design.

  Theo had a different concern of his own.

  “Hal?” he asked in a sheepish tone.

  “Did you break something?” I guessed. “Never mind.”

  “Er, no,” he said. “It’s just that… this chamber pot… well you see it’s rather, er… smaller… than one might prefer.”

  My head whipped around when I heard that. Theo had such delicate sensibilities about such matters that I knew that if he had become desperate enough to confess his concern to me, I only had a very limited amount of time left to act before the situation became unnecessarily unpleasant for the both of us. I scrutinized the chamber pot in question.

  “Oh very well,” I grumbled, and walked over to his side of the room. I set my hand on the chamber pot and enlarged it as much as I could, without causing it to become too tall for my horse to use. Then I averted my eyes, held my breath, and awaited the telltale plopping sounds. Afterward, I let go of the pot, and the contents shrank along with the vessel. Then I shoved it back underneath the bed.

  Theo cleared his throat. I knew that he wanted to thank me, but was also so embarrassed that he wanted to pretend the incident hadn’t occurred in the first place. One of the reasons that he was never attracted to ordinary, non-talking mares was his horror at their penchant for shitting in public. I think that it was a source of genuine angst for him, and I always had to try to conceal my amusement. I patted him on the flank to comfort him for what I knew he perceived as a tragic compromise of dignity.

  Then I sat down on an elaborately embroidered footstool and reflected on the situation I’d gotten myself into. I guess I shouldn’t have been that surprised by the fact that Vera had turned up here, at Gorander’s side. Magic was her passion, and she had always been attracted to power. And he was clearly the most powerful being in the region. Until I showed up, that is. Vera was betting on the wrong horse, so to speak, and once she realized that, she was going to regret it. Gorander needed to be killed. I didn’t want to kill her, too, but if that became necessary, I knew I could do it.

  Then, the air in front of me started to move. There weren’t any objects that could be blown by a breeze, there was no difference in temperature that I could feel and no difference in color at first, so I didn’t know how I knew, but somehow I just sensed a magical disturbance. That wasn’t an ability innate to all magic users, and it wasn’t one that I had ever possessed, although I was quite gifted at noticing people who tried to sneak up behind me, but that had more to do with my awareness of the physical world and a deeply ingrained habit of watching my back. No, this level of awareness was something new, and I suspected that it must have to do with whatever that old Savajun sorceress had given me to drink.

  After the air had finished swirling in a complex, but invisible to the naked eye, pattern, it sort of gradually consolidated, the particles growing denser and denser and taking on color that deepened from faint and translucent into vivid and lifelike, to form the silk-robed, black-haired figure of Vera Carlisle.

  I lunged at her. I hadn’t decided yet whether I was going to kiss her or strangle her, but that decision ended up being postponed for the time being, because my hands went right through her. She was just a projected illusion, not the real thing in the flesh and blood.

  She smiled gently. “Did you think I trusted you that much?”

  “In my experience, the least trustworthy people tend to trust others least,” I said.

  “You always knew exactly what I was,” she said. “It’s not as though I deceived you about that.”

  “But you still betrayed me to my enemies,” I said. “You tried to get me killed.”

  “That was never my preferred outcome,” Vera asserted. “I knew there was a good chance you would still be able to fight your way out.”

  “All for some lizard’s ball sack,” I scoffed.

  “It was a newt, a very rare breed that is now thought to be extinct on every continent, and it wasn’t about the artefact itself, it was about the spell for immortality,” she retorted. “An immortality that I wished to share with you.”

  “How awfully considerate of you,” I said. “But I do notice, you never included me in the decision-making process. Not much of a way to try to start an eternity with someone, is it?”

  “I knew you never would have agreed to the plan,” she stated.

  “Damn right I never would have agreed to the plan,” I spat. I pointed to the scar on my temple, just off to the side of my eyebrow. “And it wasn’t just the almost getting stabbed in the head part that I took a dislike to, Vera. The whole notion of immortality is a fool’s errand.”

  “It’s not! It can be done. I know it can. There are so many references in the ancient texts. Almost every serious modern practitioner agrees that, theoretically--”

  “I don’t give a shit whether it can be done or not,” I said. “The issue is whether it should be done.”

  “Non-magic users, small-minded people who fear what our powers could be, they are the ones who try to impose artificial limits on us, to stunt our potential, under the guise of so-called morality,” Vera said scornfully. “I don’t care about what anyone thinks I ‘should’ or ‘should not’ do. I care about what I can do. And I know that I am capable of so
much more. More than even you could imagine.”

  “I’m not talking about public opinion, I’m talking about the laws of nature,” I said. “Even if you could be immortal, I don’t think it would turn out to be all it was cracked up to be. You and I and every poor fool out there, we’ve all got exactly one life each, and it’s our choice what to make of it, and it’s a matter of some urgency, since there’s only the one and death could come at any time. But if you cheated death? What would any of your choices mean anymore?”

  “Just what they always have,” Vera replied as she paced back and forth across the bearskin rug and gestured with her hands to emphasize her points. “Even if you were infinite, every moment that you lived in would still be finite. You’d only have one chance to spend it, and then it would be gone. You might span the centuries, but the centuries themselves would move on, and the world wouldn’t be the same. So you could only build one life for yourself on the untamed Western frontier, just as we’re doing now. Before that, you could only have lived through the days of the Revolution once. Loyalist or patriot, your choice, but you’d have to make it, same as any mortal, and you couldn’t undo it. In fact, you’d live to see the true consequences of your choices in a way that we don’t now, so maybe they’d feel even more profound to you.”

  “You’d outlive anyone you’d ever cared about,” I said. “Once it happened enough times, you’d grow too numb to care about any new people you met that might otherwise have meant something to you. And chances are, unless your accomplishments were one in a million, you’d outlive your own legacy, whatever imprint you had left on the world, time and again. You’d always feel obsolete in a senseless new age.”

  “You’d never be obsolete,” Vera argued. “You’d have the wisdom of the ages to pass down to every next generation that surrounded you.”

  “I suppose, and then they’d burn you at the stake for being a witch or a heretic,” I said. “People are ungrateful, you know.”