by Edwin McRae
“Good things for those who embrace it. Bad things for those who don’t.”
“A weapon?” asked Maribella. A spark of naked ambition flickered in her blue eyes.
I’m going to have to watch this one, thought Karina. She has ideas above her station.
“Definitions are the domain of your betters, sergeant.”
A sullen shadow extinguished the spark. Maribella clearly didn’t like being reminded of her position in life, but she had the good sense to obey protocol nonetheless. “Yes, Madam Inquisitor.”
Good, thought Karina. That was the stick, now here’s the carrot.
She stood, stretched her back and then offered the sergeant a sly smile. “Of course, is not the desire to better ourselves the very cornerstone of this great empire of ours?”
The sergeant mirrored her smile and Karina noticed her shoulders relax. “Glory to the Great,” recited Maribella as she slapped her palm to her breastplate.
“Glory to the Great,” agreed Karina. She pointed to the Altar of Korlvah. “Once the altar is secure, give the order to break camp.”
“Yes, madam. Our destination?”
“Names are irrelevant in this forgotten city. Their meanings died on the lips of their makers. Suffice to say that we have another temple to visit.”
“Deeper into the Barrens?”
The sergeant did well to hide her anxiety but it was as plain as day to Karina’s trained eyes. “Indeed. What’s our current personnel count?”
“Two hundred and thirty-seven, not including you or I.”
“Five percent losses so far. That’s within acceptable parameters.”
A blush of anger reddened Maribella’s cheeks and neck. “Do you have a number in mind that you would consider unacceptable, Madam Inquisitor?”
“For the Breaking Dawn, sergeant, there is no such thing as an unacceptable number.”
“I see.”
“I certainly hope so, especially now that our demon is missing in action.”
Maribella raised an eyebrow but had the good sense not to delve further. “In that case, may I make a request, Madam Inquisitor?”
“Be careful what you wish for, sergeant.”
Maribella hesitated, as if second-guessing herself, then pressed on. “Let me to take the demon’s place. Let me clear the way to the other altars.”
Karina eyed her for a moment as she ran a quick cost-benefit analysis in her head. With the demon now at large, there were only two people capable of handling the horrors this ruined city would throw at them. Judging by her stats, her prior experience and cool-headed nature, the sergeant was one of them. The other, of course, was Karina herself. She’d not had the chance to flex her alchemical muscles on this expedition and they were starting to feel decidedly cramped. She looked from Maribella to the soldiers who grunted and huffed as they transferred the altar into the waiting trolley. Karina swept her hand across the scene.
“And leave this lot to their own devices? They’re too good at getting themselves killed. Without the necessary leadership, we might return to a charnel house.”
The sergeant blinked, not quite understanding. “Madam, but you-”
“Will be coming with you,” Karina finished for her. “Your body might be willing but your mind is weak. These Barrens are beyond a simple sword-swinger, no matter how skilled in the arts of murder.”
The sergeant held Karina’s gaze for a long, chilling moment. Karina held her breath, wondering if Maribella would rise to the bait, reveal her anger and unsuitability in one foul burst. If that happened, she would continue to search the rank and file until she found the correct level of by-the-book ambition she was looking for. Karina didn’t believe in loyalty. She needed someone she could control, some clay she could mold into an extension of herself. Only then could she be confident that the job would get done.
Maribella broke eye contact and let her gaze drop to her boots. “My sword is yours, madam. Just tell me where to stick it.”
Karina felt a surge of relief. She liked being right first time. “Excellent, Captain Maribella. I knew I could rely on you.”
Maribella looked up, her eyes now glistening with excitement. It warmed Karina’s heart to see someone so easily manipulated by the promise of power.
“Which of your corporals can we safely promote to sergeant and leave in charge of this zoo?”
The freshly appointed captain turned to the busy soldiers and pointed out a stout, flaxen-haired man with a braided beard that reached down to the top of his bulging belly.
“Corporal Gunder. I fought with him in the Karaji Highlands. He’s got his head screwed on right and he’s well-liked by the ranks.”
“Then go tell Sergeant Gunder that he’s in charge of maintaining the camp and protecting the altar. While you’re at it, pick out six capable fighters, preferably those who are either too stupid or too emotionally damaged to feel fear.”
“Are we talking about ‘acceptable losses’ here?”
Karina smiled her approval. Her new captain was fast on the uptake. “Yes, but good ones. We don’t want to lose them too quickly.”
“Yes, Madam Inquisitor.” Maribella turned to go.
“And captain?”
She turned back to Karina, her expression stern but her eyes bright with pride. Yes, Karina thought, I’ve judged this one correctly. She’ll do pretty much anything for me now, for the gratitude and the glory.
“Yes?”
“If the soldiers feel inclined to speculate on the whereabouts of our lost demon, tell them that he has met a rather sticky end. His remains have likely been consumed by those creatures he so carelessly failed to slay.”
Maribella’s eyes narrowed a little. “I look forward to making that true.”
“So do I, captain,” agreed Karina. “So do I.”
8
[Vari]
Vari brought up her latest notification while she waited for the silverbeet to boil.
Congratulations! You have reached Level 7 as a Figurist.
Progress to next level = 1078/1700
You have been awarded 2 Attribute Points.
Spell Selection
You have 5 magical spells available for selection.
You have 2 spell slots remaining.
Inner Strength (Cast cost = 7 EP)
Calming Influence (Cast cost = 8 EP
Discombobulate (Cast cost = 8 EP)
Heightened Awareness (Cast cost = 9 EP)
Scarlet Fever (Cast cost = 9 EP)
She swiped the notification aside and brought up the descriptions for Heightened Awareness and Scarlet Fever.
Heightened Awareness
The recipient gains significant improvements in the acuity of their core senses and incremental improvements their sixth sense.
Tier 1: Lasts for up to one hour. Recipient has a 30% chance of sensing danger and a 20% chance of sensing a hidden person or creature’s presence.
“Ignorance is an endless well of pain.”
- Abigail of the Blessed Touch
Scarlet Fever
The figurist’s victims will suffer a raging fever that reduces their Body and Mind scores by 5 points and causes 1 HP damage per second.
Tier 1: The caster can infect up to ten victims within her line of sight. The fever lasts for 30 seconds.
There was a wicked glint in Vari’s eyes as she slotted Scarlet Fever into place. She was tempted by Heightened Awareness, seeing the obvious benefits, but then she’d hoped to slot in Calming Influence at her next level up.
Calming Influence
The recipient(s) levels of pain, anger, anxiety, stress and depression are significantly reduced for a limited time. Symptoms will return unless external causes are resolved.
Tier 1: One recipient at a time only. Effects last for one hour.
Vari lifted the pot of silverbeet off the fire so that it could cool and then slotted Calming Influence into place. Chasms of Corruption had been a rocky emotional road and it was only going
to get rougher.
She dropped one attribute point each into Mind and Body and gave the lentils a stir before tasting them. They needed more seasoning. She added a little more salt and pepper from the paper packets she kept in her pack, gave the lentils another stir and then set them aside to cool beside the silverbeet.
The beet had been growing wild and lush in one of the neighboring chambers, flourishing in the sun and rain that poured in equal measure through the ruptured roof. Judging by the temperate climate, the Barrens had once been a land of plenty. Its fertile ground sheltered from storms by the mountains above. Perhaps it could be a land of plenty again if they could find and destroy the corruption that still plagued this place. The Barrens had a sordid history, that much was clear from the creatures they’d encountered so far. While the pit beetles had been natural enough, an understandable growth in size to fill a vacant niche in the local ecology, the Horripede and the Crypt Queen represented something entirely alien. Creatures of creation, not evolution.
Vari felt a chill run down her spine. She remembered the muffled howls and screams that breached the walls of her old quarters in the figurist compound. It was no accident that the inquisitors had housed them next door to the cells. They wanted their figurists to ‘acclimatize’ to their duties, to become numbed to the symptoms of their craft. Pain and suffering were the unfortunate but necessary side effects of their work. ‘Growing pains’ some inquisitors even called them, through lips curled in such a wry and dismissive way that even now Vari instinctively clenched her fist, ready to punch those smug smiles right off their callous faces.
“You finding this all a bit weird too, Vari?” asked Braemar.
Vari nodded. He’d read her wrong, but Vari understood that her dark thoughts were as much a product of the present as they were of the past. She looked to where Mark and Arix were sitting together, hunched over like two conspirators whispering about acts of treason. She could make out the rumble of their voices but none of the words. Mark hadn’t spoken to her since Arix’s arrival. That was over an hour ago. There was something happening that she didn’t understand, something that made her feel more different from Mark than she’d felt at any time since they’d met.
“Any idea what Arix was talking about? What did he mean when he called Mark a ‘player’?” wondered Braemar. “Player of what? I’ve never seen Mark with a lute or pipes or anything like that. And you and I have both heard him sing.”
Vari rolled her eyes. “How is it possible to miss every note by a quarter tone?”
“No idea.”
Braemar poked at the fire with a stick, shifting the embers to help the lentils cook evenly. “What’s a bloody ‘Enpeesee’ when it’s at home? Arix was pointing at us when he said that.”
Vari shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Arix mentioned resurrection. Guess that means he’s some sort of warlock? Maybe ‘Enpeesee’ is just a word they use for non-warlocks?”
Vari shrugged and took another look at their huddled figures. She focused on Arix, willing his details into her mind’s eye. While her Sculpt Bone spell had risen to Tier 3 during their battle with the Crypt Queen, her Physik Perception had reached Tier 4 earlier, during the battle with the Horripede.
Level 9 Horripede
HP: 200
That’s all she’d seen at the time, along with the location of the creature’s central nervous system and a few other basics about its anatomy. She didn’t want to use this new ability on Mark and Braemar. It would feel like an invasion of privacy. But Arix, he was a different cauldron of eels. Vari didn’t yet know why, but she felt a growing determination to find out.
Arix the Damned
Class: Executioner - Level 6
Body: 17
Mind: 15
Spirit: 11
HP: 75
EP: 55
“He’s not a warlock. He’s an executioner.”
Braemar’s eyes widened in shock. “Shit a brick, you can see that?”
Vari raised a hand to stave off his next question. “It’s a new ability, and no I won’t use it on you.”
The druid relaxed and poked at the embers again. “In Garland, executioners went the way of the monarchy. Been over a hundred years now since anyone’s lost their head over a crime. In fact, there’s not been a serious crime in Garland for as long as I’ve been alive.”
That surprised Vari. Robbery, murder and rape were all too common in Karajan, even before the reivers took over. In Credence, crime was a daily occurence. Figurists weren’t allowed to walk the streets without a military escort.
“Who rules in Garland now? And how do they keep the peace?”
“The Council of Druids, but they don’t exactly ‘rule’. Everyone just gets on with enjoying life. No-one’s rich, but no-one’s poor either.”
“Pretty much the opposite of Credence then. Karajan too. You’re either fat or starving. Not much in between.”
“That was Garland a hundred years ago. The king died and didn’t leave any heirs. There was a civil war between two cousins. Thousands died. Then the druids led the people against both cousins, locked them up and threw away the key. Those two men owned most of the country, so the druids used that wealth to build farms, waterways, schools and so on. ‘Desperation breeds destruction’, that was the druid motto. So they got rid of the desperation, and a hundred years later, most people are pretty happy with their lots.”
“Happy people don’t commit crimes?”
Braemar shrugged. “Garland’s not perfect. We still have our fair share of assholes, but now being a prick is a luxury, not a necessity.”
“Total opposite of Credence then.”
“The reivers still have executioners?”
“Available for hire on every street corner.”
“You’re exaggerating, right?”
“Only slightly,” Vari confirmed with a wry smile.
She lifted the lentils off the fire, gave them a final stir and set them down to cool beside the silver beet.
Braemer rubbed his thumb against his lips as he thought. “If what Arix says about that collar is true, he’s no friend of the reivers.”
“Doesn’t make him our friend,” snapped Vari, more sharply than she intended.
The corner of the druid’s eye crinkled as he looked out at Arix and Mark. It was the only way Vari could tell he was smiling. The rest of his expression was lost in red hair.
“You’re starting to sound like Dayna.”
Vari had to admit that she was feeling a bit like Dayna right now. Her inner walls were right up and she was ready to defend them.”
“Sorry. Guess I’m feeling a bit on edge.”
“That makes two of us.”
Something occurred to Vari then, and it seemed like the perfect time to ask. “Your Council of Druids, they summoned Mark somehow?”
Braemar’s eyes flicked to Vari but quickly slid from her face, falling back to the fire. It looked like he was trying to work out how much he was allowed to say. “Yeah, it’s an old ritual.” A smile crossed his lips, a forced one. “Probably why Mark ended up in the middle of nowhere. It’s not something we druids have had much practice with.”
Vari bit her thumbnail a couple of times and then gestured in Arix’s direction. “The inquisitors must have their own version of that summoning ritual.”
Braemar nodded. “Arix’s accent is different but their way of speaking is pretty similar. Perhaps Mark and Arix come from the same place? Same world, at least.”
“A world you and I know absolutely nothing about.”
Braemar shrugged. “I try to think more about what I do know rather than what I don’t.” He pointed at her ebony staff propped up against the stone wall. “How’s that staff working out for you?”
Vari smiled as she reached over and picked it up. As she lay it across her legs, its stats popped up of their own accord.
Ebon Staff of the Dusk
20% increase in casting speed.
+20% to staff base damage during daylight or darkness.
+50% to staff base damage during twilight.
“Day and night are stale illusions. Everything changes and dusk has the truth of it.”
- Desir the Leaden Heart
She stroked the smooth, dark wood with her fingertips. The silver caps gleamed yellow and orange in the firelight.
“Looking forward to hitting something with this,” she remarked with a fierce grin. She pointed the staff at Mark and Arix. “Maybe those two if they don’t get over here before their dinner gets cold.”
The druid snort-laughed as he stood. “I’ll tell them.”
He walked over to Mark and Arix, and while Vari noticed that Mark acknowledged Braemar with a smile and a thank you, Arix barely even registered his existence. She slapped her staff into her palm a couple of times, hard enough to feel the sting, and then leaned it back against the wall.
Soon they were eating her lentils and beets around the fire. Correction, thought Vari, three of us are eating my lentils and beets while one of us is wrinkling his nose at his plate like he’s been served stir-fried insult on a bed of boiled contempt.
“Something wrong with dinner, Arix?”
“No offense, luv, but it’s missing a vital ingredient.”
“I can add more salt if you like.”
Arix shook his head. “I was thinking of something more...meaty. Don’t happen to have some bacon tucked away in your pack, do ya?”
It was Vari’s turn to wrinkle her nose. “No, I don’t.”
Arix looked wistfully into the gathering darkness. “Wonder if I’ve got me enough time to raid that reiver camp? They had some lovely pork cutlets I fancy swiping.”
Braemar looked from Vari to Arix, back to Vari and then down at his plate. Mark forced a laugh, trying to ease the growing tension. “You’ve only just escaped from them, Arix. How about we leave them alone for awhile?”
